“Know her? Know Miss Pansy Comfort? Known her since I was that high.” Brose swept a hand along about six inches from the deck. “Used to be in her Sunday-school class. Done odd jobs for her when I was a kid, often. Shingled the shed roof for her not more’n four years ago. Sure, I know her. Guess every one does. I heard something about her having to leave that house up there, but I didn’t know she was up against it like that. Well, say!”
“Don’t you think she’d get on all right here?” asked Laurie anxiously. “I’ve been thinking that it’ll be sort of lonely here at night for her.”
“She’ll get on. Trust her. She’s plucky. Anyway, no one would trouble her. Why, gee-whillikins, I’ll look out for her myself! I’m going past here all times, land or water, and I’ll keep the old eagle eye peeled sharp. Another thing. You say you’re going to fix this old ark up a bit. You’d have to, of course. Well, that’s where I come in, eh? I’m sort of handy with tools, and I’d like mighty well to help. What say, fellers?”
“Gosh,” answered Laurie joyfully, “I say ‘Sure!’ That’ll be simply corking. And maybe you’ve got some tools?”
“Tools? Yeah. Or if I ain’t I can get them. When you aiming to get at her and what you aiming to do?”
CHAPTER XVII
THE FUND GROWS
They parted from Brose Wilkins half an hour later. The work of fixing up the Pequot Queen for Miss Comfort’s accommodation seemed shorn of all difficulties. They were to start in the morning on the gangway between boat and shore, Bob supplying the material and Brose the tools. “Better get that up first,” said the latter, “so’s you can get aboard without wading. You don’t need to bring much material, fellers. There’s a pile of second-hand stuff over on our wharf we can make use of. Don’t forget the spikes, though. I ain’t got any spikes. Well, see you fellers again.”
Brose pushed off the launch with a foot, jumped nimbly aboard, and waved a long, lean hand. And just then Laurie remembered something.
“Hold on,” he called. “We haven’t paid you!”