“But where is he? Where is he?” Ellen interrupted eagerly.
The man chuckled. “Lady by name o’ Crump’s got him in tow, stowed him away in bed, sot a big nigger to watch that he didn’t get away, come down herself and routed us up, told us a party was marooned off here and we’d got to come after ’em, which we was willing to do. We was going out to draw out lowbster pots anyway. What’s wrong? Engine gone dead on you?”
“Juice gave out,” replied Alvin shortly.
“Ah-h, I see; that does happen in the best regerlated families, sometimes, specially when you hev a load of pretty wimmin folks along,” said the man with a sly wink at Tom.
“Wal, if juice is all you want, we can load you up and go about our business,” said the second man. “No, glad to accommodate you.” He shook his head as Alvin tendered more than the price of the gasoline. “So long.”
The gasoline provided, the men went off to their lobster pots, and the marooned party consumed the remnants of yesterday’s feast before they set out for home, Tom having built a fire and made coffee earlier.
“For shipwrecked mariners cast away on a desert island I think we are faring pretty well,” remarked Hettie. “Who was the foresighted person who thought to provide extra coffee?”
“Ellen, of course,” answered Mabel. “She always thinks of the useful things; Useful Ellen we call her.”
“Don’t give me the credit,” Ellen protested. “It is all Cousin Rindy’s training.”
“But there had to be something to build on,” Mabel asserted.