“So it struck me,” Mr. Hardack went on. “But then you know these chaps are sort of tramps. They’re here to-day and gone to-morrow. Always roving around. Of course in the winter I have a regular assistant the government provides, but in the summer time, just as at the life saving stations, they take things a bit easier. However, this other man came along, and he seems a lot nicer than Bill Cherry or whatever his name was.”
The keeper led the way up the steps to the house, the boys following.
“Guess it’s just as well not to say anything,” spoke Ned in a low voice. “They’ve given up the plot. We’d only be laughed at if we mentioned it.”
His companions agreed with him, glad enough to feel there was going to be no attempt to wreck a ship by means of false lights. The keeper set out a big pitcher of cool milk and a plate of cookies, which, as Bob said, were the best he ever ate, but then Bob was apt to say that about anything in the culinary line.
“Yes,” Mr. Hardack was saying, “Jessica would have been glad to see you. Poor girl, she has quite a trouble on her mind. I’ve been hoping things would straighten out, but they don’t seem to. Her father, he—”
“Ting-a-ling-ling-ling!” rang the telephone bell. The keeper sprang to answer it. The boys listened idly to the one-sided conversation.
“Yes, this is Mr. Hardack.”
“What’s that? Kate sick?”
“Come over? Yes—er—that is—Yes, I can come. I forgot I had a new helper. I’ll be right over. Anything serious?”