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Page 24
Captain Jenks looked at him in some amazement.
"Wait till you try to lift an oar," was his comment. "Hey, little
girl, you'll get grease on your dress."
"She has already," said Meg calmly. "She always does. Are you
named for the Captain Jenks in the rime?"
"Captain-Jenks-of-the-horse-marines-he-fed-his-horse-good-pork-
and-beans?" inquired the captain glibly and in one breath. "Well,
no, I don't think I was--not that I remember. One of the fellers
that was up here last year made me a piece of poetry about my
name. Want to hear it?"
The four little Blossoms nodded eagerly.
"Here 'tis," said the captain. "Short and sweet:
"Captain Jenks has a motor-boat,
He feeds it oil to make it float."
"What comes next?" demanded Dot.
"That's all," said the captain. "And here we are at Apple Tree
Island!"
"I hope you haven't been talked to death," Father Blossom said to
Captain Jenks when he came to tell the children it was time to get
off. "My wife and I were trying to see if we could recognize the
places we knew seven years ago."
"Can't give me too many children," said the captain heartily. "Any
time you don't know what to do with these youngsters, you have 'em
on the wharf when I tie up; I'll take 'em on my rounds with me and
bring them back safely."
CHAPTER X
ON THE ISLAND
There was a small wharf built out from a bank of green grass, and
here the Blossoms landed, after bidding Captain Jenks a friendly
good-by. They had been so busy talking to him, the children, that
is, that they had never looked to see where the boat was taking
them.
Apple Tree Island was only about half a mile from the shore, but
perhaps a quarter of a mile further from Greenpier, where the
stores and the post-office and the boathouse were built. A bend in
the lake hid the island from the town. The ten or so other islands
which Mr. Harley had mentioned were all further up the lake.
Mr. Harley had been mistaken in his estimation of the size of
Apple Tree Island. It was in reality one of the smallest and,
Father Blossom thought, less than two miles around its shoreline.
It was diamond shaped, and the Winthrop bungalow was now the only
building on it. Mr. Harley's shack no longer counted, and the
summer home of the invalid for whom Father Blossom made yearly
trips to the island, had burned to the ground during the winter.
So the Blossoms would be the only people on the island this year.
"Just like Swiss Family Robinson!" exclaimed Meg rapturously.
"Look at the funny stumpy trees!"
"We'll take a walk this afternoon and explore," her mother
promised. "Who is hungry enough to help me get lunch?"
They all were, it seemed, so they followed the worn path that led
through a grassy field to the Winthrop bungalow. This house was so
surrounded by trees that it could hardly be seen till one reached
the front door, though from the porch glimpses of the lake could
be had through the trees.
"What a perfectly darling house!" Meg exclaimed when she saw it.
Mr. Winthrop had built his house of gray fieldstone, and it was
truly charming. There was a deep porch around three sides, a huge
fireplace in the hall that also served as a living-room, and
latticed windows in every room. Mrs. Winthrop had furnished the
place in exquisite taste, and Mother Blossom declared that she
could be happy all Summer if she never went out of the house.
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