Tom looked up at the man with the horn-rimmed spectacles. “Have you ever known anything to taste so good as it does on Cotterell’s Island?” he asked with a twinkle in his eye.
“No, now I come to think of it, I don’t believe I ever have. It’s a wonderful place.”
“Wonderful cooking, you mean,” put in David.
“Wonderful fish,” said Ben.
“Just listen to them,” expostulated Tom. “Each taking the credit to himself. When the fact of the matter is that it’s all due to me. You’d never have come out here, Professor, would you, if I hadn’t agreed to come along?”
“Picture me alone here!” said Tuckerman. “No, I didn’t believe I should. Alone on a deserted island. It sounds all right in stories; but for practical purposes give me three companions. Boys, when I go back to my middle-western city I’ll think a great deal about this summer on the coast.”
“It is pretty good here,” David admitted, looking across the water to where a white sail was peeping around a point of land. “And in winter there’s fine skating.”
“And wonderful coasting,” said Ben. “There’s a hill back of Barmouth where you can coast for a mile.”
“And skiing,” Tom added. “You ought to be good at that, Professor, you’ve got such long legs.”
Tuckerman put his hands to his ears. “Hold on, hold on!” he exclaimed. “You overwhelm me. Do you want to make me desert my home and business, and do nothing but play?”