"I can take 'em over," put in Meg, eagerly. "'T won't take long."
"We will pay you for the use of the boat," added Jack.
The mention of pay immediately altered the matter in Max Pooler's eyes.
"I'll do it for another quarter," he said. "Times are hard and one must make his living."
Jack made no reply. The closeness of the man disgusted him, and he paid the amount without a word.
Meg led the way toward the beach. Their backs were scarcely turned before Max Pooler disappeared in the cottage.
"The mean miser," burst out the girl, when they were beyond hearing, "He's itchin' to put that seventy-five cents along with the rest of his money! Hope you don't blame me for what he's done. Wouldn't have cost you a cent if I'd have had my way!"
"We were very thankful to get something," said Mont, "and were perfectly willing to pay for it, too."
Jack was silent. He half wished that Meg, interesting as she was, was not present. He wished to talk with his friend over the odd news that the last half hour had brought them. He was half inclined to question the young girl further, but did not wish to excite her suspicion, and was diplomatic enough not to get at it excepting in the direct way.
Of one thing he was certain; there was a good deal below the surface that did not yet show, and he determined that he would not drop the matter until he had learned what it was.