“He won’t need any,” said Mr. Drew, quite as decisively. “If you can spend your time on it, so can I. It won’t break us, Norwood, to help the child.”
“Not at all,” agreed Mr. Norwood, generously.
“But is it really true, Daddy, that Hackle Island belongs to little Henrietta and Bertha?” asked Jessie.
“A good part of it, apparently. All of the middle of the island,” he returned. “The Government owns Sable Point where the old lighthouse stands and where the radio station is now established. That has been a government reservation for years. At the other end is the Hackle Island Hotel, always popular with a certain class of moneyed people.”
“I have been there,” said Mr. Drew, nodding. “But there is a bunch of bungalows in between——”
“By the way,” interposed Mr. Norwood, “my wife said something about taking one of those for a month or two. I have the tentative offer of one.”
“O-oh!” gasped Amy, clasping her hands.
Her father laughed outright. “See,” he said to the other lawyer. “You are going to have a guest, if you go there. I can see that.”
“The bungalow is big enough for the girls and their friends,” admitted Jessie’s father.
“That beats the farm!” cried Amy to Jessie.