“Don’t forget the five dollars,” Sara reminded him. “Burt and I can use it.”
“Oh, sure,” Bill replied, though the light faded from his eyes. “I haven’t got it on me right now. Can you wait a few days?”
“Waiting is the best thing we do,” Sara assured him. “Better get this mess of junk cleaned and oiled up right away or it won’t be worth a dime.”
“I will,” promised Bill. “Just dump ’er on the dock for me, will you?”
Sara and her brother delivered the motor to the designated place, and then rowed to their own platform where Penny waited. From the look of their faces it was evident that they never expected to be paid for their work.
Alighting from the boat, Sara noticed one of Old Noah’s floating bottles which had snagged against the edge of the platform. Rather irritably she fished it from the water. Without bothering to read the message inside, she hurled it high on the shore.
“Sara, you’re in an ugly mood today,” her brother observed, smiling.
“I get tired of seeing those bottles!” she replied. “I get tired of doing so much charity work too! How are we to meet our expenses, pay for a lawyer, and—”
“Never mind,” Burt interrupted quietly.
Sara subsided into silence. They moored the boat and Burt, carrying the diving bell with him, went into the shed.