"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 gra.s.s, 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 sh.o.r.e, 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 sh.o.r.eline.

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 gra.s.sy 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.

She had found an ap.r.o.n in her bag and was busy scrambling eggs when she said that. Meg was setting the table in the kitchen, for one half of the room was designed to be used as the dining-room, and Dot and Twaddles were filling the salt cellars amiably. Father Blossom had lighted the oil stove, and Bobby was unpacking the plates. They had found all the things shipped from the Oak Hill home neatly stacked in the hall, ready to be opened.

"But you are going out of the house," said Father Blossom decidedly. "This isn't going to be the kind of vacation where every one has a good time except Mother. With five pairs of hands to help you, don't you think you can manage to go with us on tramps and picnics? And you used to like to row."

"I do yet," replied Mother Blossom. "Of course, if you all help me, I'll play when you play. But lunch is ready, children. Dot, what have you done to the front of that frock?"

"I shut it in the bathroom door," explained Dot. "It's only ripped a little."

She had torn it clear of the yoke so that it hung below her petticoat bodice, but every one was too excited and hungry to pay much attention to a torn frock.

After lunch, first washing the dishes, the Blossoms decided to try to walk around the island. Unpacking, said Mother Blossom, could be done as well in the morning.

It was a clear, cool day; indeed, the Blossoms soon found that it was rare when a breeze did not sweep steadily over Apple Tree Island. And, as Twaddles wrote to Norah, they "used blankets every night."

The Blossoms discovered that Apple Tree Island gained its name from the fact that at each of its four points grew a st.u.r.dy, flourishing apple tree. These were the only apple trees on the island, though there were a number of other kinds, the majority of them curiously shaped and stunted. There were rocks on one side of the island, but on the other the sh.o.r.e sloped down to the lake gradually and was covered with gra.s.s almost to the water's edge.

There was a gravelly beach tucked away between two points, and Bobby immediately wished for his bathing suit. But he agreed to wait till morning for his first swim.

"Look at that funny heap of stones ahead," said Meg, as they rounded the point of the island farthest from the bungalow. "Look, you can see where the chimney was!"

"And there's a broken express wagon," added Dot. "Do you suppose a little boy used to live there?"

Father Blossom gave a low whistle of surprise.

"Children," he announced gravely, "that is where the Harleys used to live." Then to Mother Blossom: "It has fallen to pieces since I was up here last Summer. I think part of it was struck by lightning."

CHAPTER XI

A DAMP ADVENTURE

The Harley shack had never been a very fine building, but it had once been a home and, though the four little Blossoms were too small to realize it, it was the sight of the forlorn chimney and fireplace, the broken express wagon and the broken bits of furniture that made them feel sad.

"Why do I want to cry, Mother?" Meg kept asking. "What makes me sorry?"

"'Cause we don't know where Mrs. Harley went," a.s.serted Twaddles wisely.

"That's it, darling," said Mother Blossom tenderly.

From the Harley shack, the Blossoms went down to the sh.o.r.e and, by using Father Blossom's field gla.s.ses, were able to see the two islands that lay to the north of Apple Tree Island and which, rumor said, were used by smugglers. But the children could not forget the Harleys, and as they continued their walk around the island they discussed the mysterious disappearance of Mrs. Harley and the children.

"I wish we could find 'em!" said Meg earnestly. "Wouldn't that be fine, Bobby?"

"Yes. But how can we?" replied the practical Bobby. "They aren't on the island, and we are. Perhaps they went to China."

"I'm so sorry for Mr. Harley," struck in Dot. "Do you remember his little boys, Bobby?"

Bobby wasn't sure.

"I don't think I do," he answered cautiously. "If one of 'em wore a blue sailor suit with a red tie and the other had long pants, then I do; I'll ask Mother."

"My dear little son!" exclaimed Mother Blossom, laughing when Bobby asked her if the Harley boys wore such clothes. "They were little fellows, about the size of Twaddles--how could one of them wear long trousers? And you were eight months old, just a little baby. You are thinking of some other boys you have seen."

Because Father Blossom had insisted that Mother Blossom was to enjoy a real vacation, there was very little unpacking to be done.