“Well, it seems to me,” argued Milly, “if he’s going to explore the house he ought to have someone out there who knows something about furnishings. I daresay there’s lots of old silver and curtains and rugs and maybe chests of fine linen. Now of course a woman—well, it’s only natural that a woman—you know what I mean, a woman could help a great deal in sorting such things out.”
“When you say a woman,” inquired Tom, “do you happen to be thinking of Miss Milly Hallett?”
Milly, in spite of her tan, flushed a fiery red. “You know perfectly well, Tom, that you’ve always said I was a great help on a camping party.”
“So you are, Milly,” Tom admitted loyally. “You cook better even than Dave does. But Mr. Tuckerman didn’t say anything about bringing a girl along. I’m afraid he’d think that wouldn’t be business-like.”
“Tom’s right, Milly dear,” said Mrs. Hallett. “This is Mr. Tuckerman’s affair, and it wouldn’t be right to offer him any suggestions. But perhaps, while they’re out on the island, he wouldn’t mind if some day we went over to look at the house. When do you start, Tom?”
“To-morrow at two—that is, if father says it’s all right.”
“Oh, you’re going to ask my consent, are you?” said Mr. Hallett, with a smile. “Well, if Mr. Tuckerman is such a landlubber as he appears to be, I think it’s only right you should give him your help. I don’t see how, with Ben and David and you, he can possibly get into hot water.”
“He can’t,” agreed Milly, picking up the hat again and pretending to shiver. “The water isn’t even warm around the islands in the harbor. However, I don’t suppose this Mr. Tuckerman is apt to care much for swimming.” And as she went on twirling the hat in her hands and puffing out the big blue bow, she hummed a little tune to indicate that she was much more interested in her millinery than in Tom’s prospective adventure.
Tom walked down the street to the small, pitched-roof house—a white house with green shutters and door, and tall pink and red hollyhocks standing up against the sides—where Benjamin Sully lived. As luck would have it, David Norton was sitting with Ben on the doorstep. “Hello!” cried Tom. “I’m looking for a couple of able-bodied seamen.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” answered Ben. “What port are you bound for—the Barbary Coast or Barbadoes or round the Cape of Good Hope?”