“And right glad I am that it did,” replied Provost. “I thought we were goners when I saw it coming down the lake but it swung over east and took its spite out on Crescent Beach. Been over there yet?”
“Stopped on the way down,” replied Jim Preston. “They suffered a good bit of damage but will have it cleaned up in a couple or three days.”
“Glad to hear that,” said Provost, “that young manager, Foster, is a fine fellow.”
Helen inquired for news about the resort and was told that it would be another week, about the first of June, before the season would be under way.
They left Sandy Point and headed up the lake, this time at a leisurely twenty miles an hour. Helen enjoyed every minute of the trip, drinking in the quiet beauty of the lake, its peaceful hills and the charm of the farms with their cattle browsing contentedly in the pastures.
It was noon when they docked at Rolfe and Helen, after thanking the boatman, went home instead of returning to the office.
Tom had come from school and lunch was on the table. Helen told her brother of the sale of the quarter page ad for the paper and the 500 bills.
“That’s fine,” said Tom, “but you must have looked on the wrong page in the cost book.”
“Didn’t I ask enough?”
“You were short about fifty cents,” grinned Tom, “but we’ll make a profit on the job, especially since you got him to run it as an ad in the paper.”