“You needn’t think you’ve stolen a march on me, miss,” she said. “I’ve seen this coming for a long time.”
“Oh, have you?” exclaimed Ellen in astonishment.
“Yes, I have, but you are entirely too young, both of you, to think of getting married; you not nineteen and he only twenty-three. You must wait two or three years.”
“Three years!” Reed looked aghast. “No home, no friends, no Ellen. How can you, Miss Rindy?”
“Well, we’ll say two.”
“We’ll wait till you get back from Seattle,” interposed Ellen.
“Are you putting a premium on a long stay?” asked Miss Rindy with a swift smile. Then, very seriously: “You’ll take good care of her while I am away, won’t you, Reed? The fact that you will be at hand to watch over her makes me better satisfied to go.”
“You bet I’ll take care of her,” returned Reed fervently.
Thus was Miss Rindy’s prophecy fulfilled, for the summer saw far separated those who had roamed Beatty’s Island together.
But one day two years later, Ellen, standing at the door of Happy House, saw a group coming across the bridge. “Here they come! Here they come! They caught the morning boat!” she cried.