“And does it fit?” asked Florence.
“Not always,” Jeanne replied slowly. “Sometimes he’s almost human.” This last Florence was to learn in the days that were to come. In the drama of one crowded hour Plumdum was to play an important role.
But now Florence sprang to her feet, “Come on!” she exclaimed. “If you’re going with us you’ll have to get your things together, dark blue slacks, orange blouses—everything. We’re going to Tobin’s Harbor.”
“Tonight?” Jeanne demanded.
“In an hour.”
“Bon! Mon cher. Tout de suite!” Jeanne was off the rocks and away.
Following slowly, Florence at last reached the docks. There among the shadows she came upon a young man, little more than a boy. He was standing there looking away at the midnight fire.
She had time to think, “Interesting profile,” then he turned around and saw her.
“Hello, sister,” he said in a friendly voice. “Where did you come from? What do you do here?”
“We take people from here to there and back again,” she laughed quietly. “And,” she added, “sometimes we fight fires. Today we had a terrific battle.”