“I calculate you will,” agreed his father.
“At the wholesale price, though,” added the boy hastily; and Mr. Tucker’s eyes twinkled as he nodded.
But if the story won small appreciation from his father, there was one, at least, at the dinner table who enjoyed it, and that was Toby’s sister, Phebe. Phebe Tucker was thirteen, a slim, pretty girl with hair that Toby called “yaller” and Phebe’s mother termed golden. She had very bright, brown eyes under long lashes and a skin that, even though nearly as brown as Toby’s, was clear and smooth. There were no other children and so Toby and his sister had always been very close companions, a fact which probably accounted for a somewhat boyish quality in Phebe. She could sail a boat nearly as well as Toby, catch quite as many fish, was no mean hand at the oars, and could perform almost as many “stunts” in the water as he could. She asked no favors and was always ready for adventure—a jolly, companionable girl with a wealth of spirits, and good nature and good health.
Neither of the children resembled their mother in looks, for Mrs. Tucker was small, with dark hair and eyes, and comfortably stout. Her children called her “roly-poly,” a descriptive term which Mrs. Tucker pretended to resent. For the rest, she was a quiet, kind-hearted little woman, who worshiped her big husband and her children, and whose main ambition was to see that they were happy.
Saturday afternoon was always a holiday for Toby and Phebe, and after dinner was over they went out to the front steps and pondered what to do. The cottage was a neat, white-clapboarded little house, perched on a slope above the harbor road. From the gate a flight of six wooden steps led to a tiny bricked walk which ran the length of the cottage.
A wistaria vine, venerable with age, was in full bloom at one side of the doorway, while between house and walk narrow beds held a wealth of old-fashioned flowers. From the steps one looked across the cobbled, winding harbor road, tree-shaded in summer, to the boat yard with its weather-beaten shed and its old stone wharf, and beyond that to the little harbor and to the nestling village houses on the other side.
“We might go out in the launch,” suggested Toby, “only I’d have to fix the wiring first.”
“Would it take long?” asked his sister.
“I guess not. I couldn’t find the trouble yesterday, though. We might take a run around to Shinnecock if I can get her started.”
“Let’s,” said Phebe. “It’s too beautiful a day to stay ashore. You go ahead and see if you can’t fix it and I’ll be right along.”