“If we use all our gasoline the tide will carry us straight out to sea, and we may never get back,” she said.
“And Aggie!” I said. “Our poor Aggie!”
“Aggie is all right,” she said impatiently. “At least she doesn’t have to get anywhere. We do.”
We decided at last until the fog lifted to save our gasoline, in case we had to get out of the way of some vessel; and Tish—who can knit quite well in the dark—got out her work. But Lily May seemed to have recovered, and was acting very strangely.
For instance, she roused once from deep thought to suggest that we throw the boxes of fish overboard, and she seemed quite worried when Tish refused.
“Why should I?” Tish said. “They represent money and effort. They have a certain value.”
Lily May muttered something about a thousand dollars and ten years, which I did not catch, and then became silent once more. But when, about seven o’clock, we all heard the engine of a boat not far off and Tish was for hailing it at once, she sharply said we’d better not.
“Nonsense!” said Tish, and had started to call when Lily May put a hand over her mouth.
“Haven’t you any sense?” she demanded. “It may be a revenue boat.”
“And what if it is?” said Tish.