"And some coffee," said Mr. Daddles.
"Do you suppose there is any of that chowder left?" asked Ed
Mason; "it's always better warmed over."
"The Captain must have had his supper long ago," said I. "And gone to bed, too," put in Mr. Daddles,—"say, do you know, it's pretty late?"
To judge by the looks of Bailey's Harbor it might have been midnight. There was not a soul on the street, and only one or two houses had a light.
"Oh, well, they go to bed early here."
"Don't want to worry the Captain. He expected us back before supper."
"We'll relieve his mind now, all right."
"Gee!" said Jimmy, as we tramped down the hill, "but I'll be glad to get aboard the 'Hoppergrass.' There's nothing in the world so cosy as the cabin of a boat, on a night like this."
The same idea struck all of us, and we hurried down the wharf. The fog had lifted a little, and blew by us in wisps and fragments.
"For one thing," remarked Ed Mason, "I'd like to get into some dry clothes. I'm beginning to be soaked."