“Stagger you?” I said.  “Why?”

“I’ve been thinking you were ‘Christopher’ all this time, you see,” he said, “but, being a man of infinite resource and unparalleled sagacity, I immediately perceived the true state of affairs.”

“Are you a professor?” Jerry asked.

“Heavens, no!” our man laughed.  “Why do you ask?”

“On account of your style,” Jerry said.  “It’s so grand and stately.  So are your letters, sometimes.”

“I am but a poor bridge-builder,” the Bottle Man said, “but I can turn words on or off as I want ’em, like a hose.”

By this time the boat was almost in, and our man brought it up neatly to the float beside the ferry-slip, and some men came over and helped him to moor it.  Then he got out and came back in a minute with the man who always meets the ferry in an automobile to hire.  The man looked as if he were in a dazy dream, which I don’t blame him for at all, because we did look quite weird.  He and the Bottle Man lifted Gregg, mattress and all, and stowed him in on the back seat of the automobile.  The rest of us perched on the front seat and the running-board, trying to conceal our strange appearance from the staring of quite a crowd which was gathering, as it was just ferry-time.

Our man said, “17 Luke Street, and go carefully.”  It surprised us for a second to hear him say our address as if he’d known it always, but then we realized that he had known it for quite a long time.

I think none of us will ever forget the way the house looked as we swung around the corner and came up Luke Street.  Just the end of the gable first, behind the two big beeches in the front garden,—­oh, we hadn’t seen it for years and centuries,—­and then the living-room windows open, with the curtains blowing, and the little box-bush that grows in a fat jar on the porch-steps.  Mother was coming out at the front door, and she looked just the way she did when we got a telegram once saying that Grannie was very ill.  Jerry jumped off the running-board before the automobile stopped, and he let Mother hug him right there in the middle of the path, which is a thing he generally hates.  By that time our man and the chauffeur were lifting Greg and the mattress out, and Mother let go of Jerry and stood quite still, with her face all white and hollow-looking.  We all began talking at once, and the Bottle Man managed to tell Mother more about everything in a few minutes than you would think possible.

He and the automobile man, who still looked flabbergasted, put Greg on the big bed in mother’s room while she was telephoning to Dr. Topham.  We all felt fidgetty and unsettled until Dr. Topham came, which was really very soon.  I think he must have broken all the speed rules.  Jerry and I, who had put on some other clothes, sat in the living-room with the Bottle Man while the doctor set Greg’s arm, which was fractured.  Mother stayed with Greg.  The Bottle Man told us things about the war and his island, and he played soft, wonderful music on the piano to make us forget about Greg and the Sea Monster and all the awful things that had happened.