Ain’t you going to take me over to your house, my dear? I suppose you’ve some way of getting there.”

“Of course,” said Valancy stupidly. She led the way down to the little cove where the disappearing propeller boat was snuggled.

“Does your — your man want to come, too?”

“Who? Henry. Not he. Look at him sitting there disapproving. Disapproves of the whole expedition. The trail up from the road nearly gave him a conniption. Well, it was a devilish road to put a car on. Whose old bus is that up there?”

“Barney’s.”

“Good Lord! Does Bernie Redfern ride in a thing like that? It looks like the great-great-grandmother of all the Fords.”