As he dreamed, he turned and walked down over the satiny sand of the
beach to the water's edge, and now could see that there were three
people in the yacht,--a little round man with big spectacles at the
rudder, a taller one, young and trim-looking in his tourist costume, who
stood boldly out on the bowsprit, while a beautiful woman with blond
hair leaned gracefully back in a steamer-chair.
With native courtesy Morton hastened to assist in securing the boat, and
was rewarded by a hearty "Thank you, my boy!" from the younger man, and
a brilliant smile from the lady, which covered him with blushes and
confusion. The older man seemed in a brown study, and only glared at him
absent-mindedly through his large glasses.
"Ah, Robare!" said the lady with an odd little accent, "I have now a
thought; it may be this boy could to us tell of some public-house near
by, to which we could go for this night."
All turned to Morton, who said hesitantly,--
"Yes, there is one, or at least there's Miss Zeba Osterhaus; she keeps
store in her front window, and has rooms up-stairs that she doesn't use.
Sometimes she takes in a painter fellow, or the goose-men."
"The what?" laughed the young man, advancing with a large portfolio,
which he had taken from the yacht as soon as she was made fast.
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