"Oh, yes, I know Mr. Hardee," spoke Mr. Bobbsey. "I sold him some lumber with which he built his house. So you work for him? But what are you doing so far away from the farm?"
"Mr. Hardee sent me over here, to Lakeport, on an errand."
"Well, if I were you I wouldn't come so far away from where I left my horse and wagon," cautioned Mr. Bobbsey, for the place where the boat was tied was a long distance from the main road leading from Lakeport to Lemby.
"I didn't come in a wagon," said the boy. "I walked."
"What! You don't mean to say you walked all the way from Lemby to
Lakeport?" exclaimed Mrs. Bobbsey, who had now come up on deck.
"Yes'm, I did," answered the boy. "Mr. Hardee said he needed the horses to work on the farm. He said I was young, and the walk would do me good. So Mrs. Hardee, she gave me some bread and butter for my lunch, and I walked. I'm walking back now, and I came this way by the lake. It's a short cut.
"Then I happened to see this boat here. I like boats, so I thought it wouldn't hurt to come on board."
"Oh, no, that's all right!" said Mr. Bobbsey quickly. "I'll be glad to have you look around, though this is only a houseboat, and not built for ocean travel. So you work for Mr. Hardee, eh? What's your name?"
"Will Watson," the boy said. Mrs. Bobbsey was trying to motion to her husband to come toward her. It seemed as though she wanted to say something to him privately.
"Will Watson, eh?" went on Mr. Bobbsey. "I don't seem to know any family of that name around here."