“Bless my heart and soul, I must be going,” he exclaimed. “I expect the pirates to-night.”
The girls laughed, and Polly sighed contentedly.
“You’ve traveled everywhere, haven’t you?” she asked.
“Not quite.” He smiled down at her from behind his thick curly beard. “I have yet to see Glenwood, Queen’s Landing, Virginia.”
“And we’d just love to have you see it too,” responded Polly with quick southern warmth. “It’s the dearest spot of all, we think.”
After the motor boat had passed from sight around the Knob, the girls looked at one another in perplexity.
“Now, who on earth can he be?” asked Ruth. “For he must be somebody special, or he never would have traveled all over the world, in every place where interesting things have happened for years and years. I wonder who he is.”
“Just Mr. Smith,” said Polly, shaking her head. “But I think he is a mystery, girls. We’ll ask the Captain about him.”
“There’s one thing certain,” Kate added. “He’s a good neighbor to have handy.”
Before a week had passed, even Aunty Welcome agreed with the verdict. Mr. Smith of Smugglers’ Cove was surely a desirable neighbor. Books and magazines found their way to the house, as well as fishing tackle that made Tom’s devices look antiquated. Several times he presented the girls with a fine catch of mackerel that was served in Welcome’s best Southern style, and Mr. Smith always stayed to partake of the feast.