“Not a bit–not even I,” answered Eline, “and I don’t know much about the water.”
“Who was she? What happened? How did you get the boy out? Who keeps the light? Tell us all about it!”
Cora held up her hands to ward off the avalanche of questions, and told as much as was necessary. She did not mention having spoken about thinking she had met the keeper of the light before, nor about the insistence of the name Margaret. Nor did it enter into Eline’s brief added description of the events of that strenuously-filled half-hour.
“Well, here comes Aunt Susan,” remarked Mrs. Fordam. “I think she couldn’t wait any longer to learn all about what happened, and I don’t blame her. I’ll soon turn you girls over to her charge.”
“Oh, but you’ll stay with us to-night!” exclaimed Cora.
“Yes, and I’ll go back home in the morning on the train. Really I have enjoyed this trip very much, and I would like to stay longer, but I can’t. Perhaps I may come down during the summer to see you.”
“Please do,” invited Cora.
Aunt Susan proved worthy of her name, a home-like lady, with an easy manner, that made one feel comfortable at once. She simply “oozed” good things to eat, as Jack said, and Jack ought to know. Some of the young people she knew, having met them at Cora’s house. The others were presented to her.
“Well, the bungalows are all ready for you,” she went on, after explanations had been made. “I expect you’re tired and hungry and—”
“Wet,” interrupted Jack, with a look at Cora. “But then you can’t make rescues from the briny deep without getting at least damp.”