“Yes,” said Tom, simply, adding, “He’s got some medals. He’s a coast guardsman. Do you want to go over to your place right now? I’m going along home, and it’s only a step from there.”
Polly considered. It was nearly noon, but they all wanted to see Lost Island so very much that she knew they would not mind giving up their luncheon at the hotel for the trip.
“Have you got a boat that will carry us all?” she asked, doubtfully.
“We won’t need a boat. I said they only called it an island, didn’t I? It isn’t a whole one. It’s a sort of knob that sticks up out of the water, with a good bit of beach, and at high tide it’s pretty well surrounded, except for a ridge of hummocks you can walk over. If we follow this shore road, it leads right to our house, and your place, and then straight along and minds its own business till it gets out to the Point.”
“Then we’ll be neighbors, won’t we?” said Ruth. “I guess we’ll be very glad to have good ones within hail before we get through.”
“We’ll all be good neighbors to you,” Tom returned quite seriously. “We’re mighty glad some real folks are going to live near us all summer. It gets lonesome way out there on the bay shore, and the village is two miles away. It’s just exactly one mile from our house to the hotel, then another mile on to Eastport.”
“Do you walk it often?” asked Ted, her hands deep in her sweater pockets. “We’ll have to go over after our mail, and I’m going to be post girl. I love to walk, miles.”
“We don’t walk it much,” returned Tom, stolidly. “You won’t either, after you find you can clip across the bay in a ‘cat’ in quarter the time.”
They had turned about, and were walking slowly back along the boardwalk towards the hotel. The Admiral saw them coming, and came down from the veranda to meet them. Polly managed the introduction in her own way.
“Grandfather, dear, this is Tom Carey, the captain’s son. He knows all about the island, and takes care of the yachts for his father. And may we, please, please, walk right over, and see it all now?”