“Let us go home by the way of the town wharf,” said Frank. “I want to find out if there’s any chance of getting to the island to-day; and maybe we’ll catch Captain Green or some of the fishermen there.”
Frank had left unexpressed his strong motive for going, but Kate added: “O, yes, Frank, and then they can see your perfectly lovely uniform. You can’t think how fine you look and how proud of you in it I am. I’d rather not have a single new thing to wear this winter and be able to see you in it.”
“What an admiring duck you are!” observed Frank. “In return, I’ll get together the best set of adjectives I can muster to do you honor in your next finery”—with which promise they came within sight of the pier. On it a stranger was walking and peering with interest into every little boat thereabout.
“I wonder who that is,” said Frank, straightening himself and walking down the wharf as though he owned it and the harbor also. Kate straightened her hat and walked demurely by his side. Kate could not assume airs and graces that were not her own.
“Good morning, my lad,” said the stranger to Frank.
“Good morning,” returned Frank, a little stiff at having been called “my lad” by the man.
“That uniform looks very well, indeed. I didn’t think it could be so exact a fit as it is,” remarked the man. “You are the son of Mr. Hallock at the Point yonder. I know,” he added with a smile, “for I sent that suit to him yesterday.”
“Then you are Mr. North,” returned Frank, not quite so freezing in his air of boyish consequence.
“Yes, and perhaps you can help me. I come out to this region very often during the fall and winter for duck-shooting, and I have so great difficulty in securing a boat that I wish to buy one. Do you know of one for sale?”
“Yes,” spoke up impulsive Kate; “there is your own boat, Frank.”