Mother Blossom told Mr. Harley all that Aunt Polly knew of Mrs. Harley and all that she had said.  He merely nodded his head.  Meg noticed that while he had been neatly dressed when they overtook him on the road he now wore no tie and in place of a collar a rather grimy red handkerchief was knotted around his throat.

“I told you there wouldn’t be a bridge,” whispered Twaddles to Dot.  “Mother, all the way here Dot was arguing we went to the island on a bridge.  We don’t, do we?”

“I’m afraid you’re so hungry you can’t argue very pleasantly,” returned Mother Blossom.  “However, I want you to wait till we get to the bungalow and I’ll have a nice, hot lunch for you, Daddy, what about leaving the car?”

“There’s a garage down the street a piece,” volunteered Mr. Harley.  “Guess the car will be all right there; and the motor-boat’s due any minute.”

“Told you there wasn’t any bridge!” snickered Twaddles in triumph.

“Stop teasing your sister,” ordered Father Blossom.  “Stay with Mother, children, till I run the car into the shop.  Who runs the boat, Dick?”

“Man named Jenks,” answered Mr. Harley.  “It makes two trips a day during the season; goes to all the islands and carries the mail and fresh vegetables.  Jenks will do errands in town for you, too, if you want anything.  Very obliging.  Never gets mad.”

Mr. Harley spoke in short, jerky sentences that fascinated the listening children, Bobby especially.

“How many islands are there?” Meg wanted to know.

“’Bout eleven,” said Mr. Harley.  “Some little, some big.  Apple Tree Island?  Oh, that’s medium, I guess.”

Father Blossom came back from putting up the car and took charge of the suitcases.  Each of the four little Blossoms carried his own coat.  Presently they heard the chug-chug-chug of a motor-boat.

“All aboard!” called a bluff, hearty voice, and a green and white boat shot up beside the wharf on which the Blossoms stood.

“These passengers are for Apple Tree Island,” said Mr. Harley.  “Know whether their baggage’s come yet?”

“Poled three trunks and six small boxes over on the raft yesterday afternoon,” announced the motor-boat captain, who was also the crew.  “Billed for the Winthrop bungalow—­that right?”

“Right!” Father Blossom cheerfully assured him.  “Now if you have room for us all, Captain—­”

“Jenks, very much at your service,” said the captain, with a flourish.  “I suppose you’d like to go right over?”

“We should, if you can take us,” said Mother Blossom.  “The children are hungry and it must be after noon.”

Captain Jenks assured her that he could take them to Apple Tree Island without stopping at any other port, and as soon as they were comfortably on board he started his engine.

“Chug-chug-chug!” coughed the little motorboat.

It wasn’t so little, of course, when it could carry seven passengers.  Indeed it had a neat little forward deck and a tiny cabin upholstered in red leather that would be very cozy in bad weather.  Captain Jenks thought his boat was a beauty.  Bobby thought so, too.