The last of the provisions disappeared before they started off, Bert in no wise unwilling to despatch large slices of cake at that hour of the morning. So, cheered and sustained, they made a quiet journey without any regrets because of the adventure, now that it was over. Mrs. Olmstead was the only grumbler, but nobody listened to her, and they arrived at their wharf quite cheerful.
To their surprise it was Reed who was first to greet them. “Why, we thought you were in bed under strict guard,” said Ellen as he helped her ashore; “behind locked doors we understood.”
“So I was, but fortunately there were windows from which I escaped. Miss Rindy believes I am still peacefully sleeping.”
“You should have had a good rest after that terrible trip.”
“It wasn’t terrible, rather exciting, and I was pretty well tuckered out when I reached here, but I’ve had a good sleep and am ‘pert as a lizard.’ But, tell me, how did you get along?”
“Very well indeed. That good Tom Clayton just laid himself out to do everything in his power to make us comfortable.”
“I told you he was a mighty good sort. As soon as you’re rested, Cronette, and have had your breakfast I have something to tell you.” He looked at her gravely.
“I’m not a bit tired and I’ve had breakfast, thank you. Tell me now.”
“No, I don’t want to hurry over it. We must have a quiet place and a quiet hour.”
“You look so serious; I hope it isn’t bad news.”