Mother Blossom told Mr. Harley all that Aunt Polly knew of Mrs. Harley and all that she had said. He merely nodded his head. Meg noticed that while he had been neatly dressed when they overtook him on the road he now wore no tie and in place of a collar a rather grimy red handkerchief was knotted around his throat.
"I told you there wouldn't be a bridge," whispered Twaddles to Dot. "Mother, all the way here Dot was arguing we went to the island on a bridge. We don't, do we?"
"I'm afraid you're so hungry you can't argue very pleasantly," returned Mother Blossom. "However, I want you to wait till we get to the bungalow and I'll have a nice, hot lunch for you, Daddy, what about leaving the car?"
"There's a garage down the street a piece," volunteered Mr. Harley. "Guess the car will be all right there; and the motor-boat's due any minute."
"Told you there wasn't any bridge!" snickered Twaddles in triumph.
"Stop teasing your sister," ordered Father Blossom. "Stay with Mother, children, till I run the car into the shop. Who runs the boat, Dick?"
"Man named Jenks," answered Mr. Harley. "It makes two trips a day during the season; goes to all the islands and carries the mail and fresh vegetables. Jenks will do errands in town for you, too, if you want anything. Very obliging. Never gets mad."
Mr. Harley spoke in short, jerky sentences that fascinated the listening children, Bobby especially.
"How many islands are there?" Meg wanted to know.
"'Bout eleven," said Mr. Harley. "Some little, some big. Apple
Tree Island? Oh, that's medium, I guess."