"Nor I. But the boat is heading for the draw."
"Perhaps it's one of those summer-boarder pleasure parties, that don't know anything about blowing for a bridge tender," said the son, after a few seconds of silence. "I'll go down and make sure."
Ralph was as good as his word. Leaving the door, he walked rapidly along a footpath which led directly to the bridge, arriving there in less than a minute and a half.
As he walked on the bridge a carriage from Eastport, containing several ladies, came over. They paid the toll to Bob Sanderson, an old man who helped Ralph in this way during the slack hours of the day. In return for the work Sanderson was allowed an attic room and board at the Nelson cottage.
"Sixteen cents since you went away, Ralph," said Sanderson, as he handed over the amount in pennies. "Ain't many folks out this morning."
"There will be more toward noon, Mr. Sanderson. Travel is always light between nine and eleven."
"That's so. My! but there's a stiff breeze a-blowin', ain't there?"
"Yes. If it keeps on we'll have a regular gale by night."
"What brought you back so soon? I thought you was goin' to whitewash your side fence?"
"I came down to see if that sloop wanted to go through. It's sailing right for the draw."