“You didn’t ask me.” The other grunted and set about casting off again, during which operation Toby studied him speculatively.
He saw a boy of perhaps a year his senior, and Toby was fifteen, fairly tall, slim, and undeniably good looking. He had brown eyes and brown hair, the latter slicked back in a way that was strange and awe-inspiring to the observer, and his face, with its straight nose and somewhat pointed chin, lacked the healthy coat of tan that Toby’s possessed. Yes, he was a good looking chap, Toby decided, but a most unpleasant and unlikable one. That fact, however, was not going to prevent Toby from making a sale, and when the visitor had sprung aboard, Toby glanced doubtfully at his box of groceries, swept the harbor without seeing anything that looked like the tender from the Penguin, and jumped lightly to the Frolic.
“I’ll go over with you and get it,” he said. “Where’s your boat-hook? All right. Start her up!”
The other viewed him doubtfully. “What have you got to do with it?” he asked, suspiciously.
“That’s my father’s wharf, and he’s busy up in the shed. If it’s gasoline you want, I’m your man. Take her across easy now.”
The engine started at half-speed, and the Frolic slid quietly away from the town landing, past the end of the coal wharf, and across the Cove to the boat-yard landing. This time the launch’s operator performed his task more creditably and nestled up against the small float with no more damage to her paint. While he made her fast Toby sprang out and ran up the gangplank to the big red tank at the end of the wharf.
“How much do you want?” he called back.
“About nine, I guess. My tank holds ten, and I think there’s almost a gallon in it.”
“All right.” Toby held a five-gallon can under the faucet and when it was full climbed down again and swung it to the bow of the launch. “Look out for the paint,” requested the other boy. “Wait till I get the funnel. Go ahead now.”
Toby poured the contents of the can into the tank and returned again to the wharf. When the final four gallons had been added he set the can back on the float and observed: “One ninety-eight, please.”