"Nobody you would care about," returned Tom.
"Then what'll you do?"
"Fish."
"Tom! you're not a fisher. You needn't pretend it."
"Sun myself on the rocks."
"You are brown enough already."
"They say, everything gets bleached there."
"Then I should like to go. But I couldn't stand the sea and solitude, and I don't believe you can stand it. Tom, this is ridiculous. You're not serious?"
"Not often," said Tom; "but this time I am. I am going to the Isles of Shoals. If Philip will take you to Saratoga, I'll start to-morrow; otherwise I will wait till I get you rooms and see you settled."
"Is there a hotel there?"