The children willingly agreed to this statement, and praised the bridge quite to the content of its owner.
"Fish much?" Mr. Hodges inquired casually of Leicester.
"Well, we haven't yet. You see we only arrived yesterday, and we're not fairly settled yet."
"Find plenty of fishin' tackle over to my place. Come along when you're ready, and Bill Hodges'll fit ye out. Pretty big proposition,—you kids shakin' around in that great empty hotel."
"Yes, but we like it," said Leicester; "it just suits us, and we're going to have a fine time all summer."
"Hope ye will, hope ye will. There ain't been nobody livin' there now for two summers and I'm right down glad to have somebody into it."
"Why do you suppose they couldn't make it pay as a hotel?" asked Dorothy.
"Well, it was most always the proprietor's fault. Yes, it was the proprietor's fault. Nice people would come up there to board, and then Harding,—he was the last fellow that tried to run it,—he wouldn't treat 'em nice. He'd scrimp 'em, and purty nigh starve 'em. Ye can't keep boarders that way. And so of course the boarders kept leavin', and so the hotel got a bad name, and so nobody wants to try a hand at it again."
When they reached the boat, Mr. Hodges stowed their basket away for them, helped the children in and pushed the boat off.
With gay good-byes and promises to come soon again, the children rowed away.