“Bought it?” called back his mother.
“Yes—for ten dollars. We needed it.”
“And he’s going to work it out,” explained Captain Anderson. “I can use him whenever you can spare him.”
“That’s very good of you,” responded Mrs. Leighton. “But please don’t pay him more than he is worth.”
The only way by which Andy could show his gratitude and appreciation was to pat the captain affectionately on the arm, and then the mouth of Goat Creek was reached.
A few minutes later Andy was assisting his mother up the path leading to the little estate of his late uncle, Abner Leighton. Then he sprang down the path again to help Ba with the trunks. His thoughts were not on oranges, nor pineapples, nor his late uncle’s house. Nor did he pause to think of the laboratory shop and the power generator. A certain red book in one of the trunks, “How to Construct and Operate an Aeroplane,” blotted out all these.
“Andrew,” called out his mother, with a laugh, “I think I see one thing, already, that we’ll have to do.”
“What’s that, mother?” panted the boy, as he tugged at his trunk strap.
“The house needs painting badly. I’ll have you do that first.”