Elspeth ran down to the end of the pier, and an instant after the boat had slid up, Garth was in his mother's arms. Jim leaped out with the painter in his hand, and stood bending over her, Garth's arms flung about them both and the three heads very close together. Joan, standing behind them on the pier, looked on with a wistful little smile.
"We had lots of fun," Garth said, as they went up to the lighthouse. "Joan was so good. We went to such a wonderful place for lunch, and we rode in a taxicab, and everything! And, Fogger! There was such a beautiful ship in a shop-window,—only little, you know,—and there were hundreds of other things."
"You'd rather live in town all the time, I dare say," Elspeth suggested.
"Mudder!" said Garth, in reproach. "Oh, if you knew how nice it was to hear the old fog bell, when we came in!"
"How about you, Joan?" asked Elspeth, with a mischievous flash in her eyes.
Joan scorned to answer. She merely gave Elspeth one look, which she hoped would settle the question definitely.
