“Not exactly a restaurant,” replied Toby, “but if you’ll come with me I’ll show you where you can get some coffee and bread and butter. The launch is over there, anyway, so it won’t take much longer.”
“Look ahead, then,” said the man. “I’ll go most anywhere for a cup of coffee!” The prospect of food seemed to better his humor, for all the way up the landing and around the road to the cottage he asked questions and conversed quite jovially. When, however, he discovered that the boy had led him to his home he was all for backing down.
“It’s very kind of you,” he said, “but I wouldn’t want to bother any one to make coffee for me. I’ll wait till I get to Johnstown.”
“It won’t be any trouble, sir, and my mother will be glad to do it. Gee, she’d like it if I’d bring some one around to be fed every day! Please, come right in, sir, and sit down, and mother’ll have something ready for you in no time.”
Hesitatingly, the stranger allowed himself to be conducted up the steps and into the sitting room, and Toby went to the kitchen and acquainted his mother with the needs of the occasion, producing in Mrs. Tucker a fine flurry of excitement and an enthusiastic delight. Ten minutes later, refreshed and grateful, the stranger—he had introduced himself as Mr. Whitney of New York—followed Toby through the yard, down the slippery ladder, and into the Turnover. If he felt dubious about trusting himself to that craft and to Toby’s seamanship, he made no sign. Toby cast off and then faced his passenger.
“I guess,” he announced, “we’d ought to agree on a price before we start, sir.”
“Eh? Oh, yes! Well, you’ve got me where I can’t say much, young fellow. Just be easy and there won’t be any kick from me. What’s the damage going to be?”
“Well, sir, it’s three miles over there, and gasoline’s worth twenty-three cents this week, and——”
“Don’t frighten me to death!” laughed the man. “Will five dollars do the trick?”
“Five dollars!” Toby gasped.