Above the door hung five bells of different sizes.
“Oh! Harbor Bells!” Betty exclaimed.
Seizing a small wooden hammer that lay on the ledge, she struck the bells one at a time. Then, as they all stood by enchanted, she played in a simple manner a tune they all loved:
“Sweet evening bells, sweet evening bells,
How many a tale their music tells.”
“Glorious Harbor Bells!” Norma exclaimed.
Harbor Bells, as they discovered very quickly, was no ordinary summer hotel. It had been built for both summer and winter. In the rich days when people had plenty of gasoline, tired business men from far and wide drove to Harbor Bells for the weekend.
Mrs. Monahan, the proprietor, was a rare cook. Her clam chowder, swordfish steaks, and home-fried chicken were famous.
“And this,” said Lieutenant Warren after she had explained all this, “is Mrs. Monahan herself. She’s agreed to stay with us and take care of us for a while, at least.”
“Sure, an’ if ye can stand to have me about!” Mrs. Monahan, a round, red-faced lady, let out a cackling laugh.