The Harley shack had never been a very fine building, but it had once been a home and, though the four little Blossoms were too small to realize it, it was the sight of the forlorn chimney and fireplace, the broken express wagon and the broken bits of furniture that made them feel sad.

"Why do I want to cry, Mother?" Meg kept asking. "What makes me sorry?"

"'Cause we don't know where Mrs. Harley went," asserted Twaddles wisely.

"That's it, darling," said Mother Blossom tenderly.

From the Harley shack, the Blossoms went down to the shore and, by using Father Blossom's field glasses, were able to see the two islands that lay to the north of Apple Tree Island and which, rumor said, were used by smugglers. But the children could not forget the Harleys, and as they continued their walk around the island they discussed the mysterious disappearance of Mrs. Harley and the children.

"I wish we could find 'em!" said Meg earnestly. "Wouldn't that be fine, Bobby?"

"Yes. But how can we?" replied the practical Bobby. "They aren't on the island, and we are. Perhaps they went to China."

"I'm so sorry for Mr. Harley," struck in Dot. "Do you remember his little boys, Bobby?"

Bobby wasn't sure.

"I don't think I do," he answered cautiously. "If one of 'em wore a blue sailor suit with a red tie and the other had long pants, then I do; I'll ask Mother."

"My dear little son!" exclaimed Mother Blossom, laughing when Bobby asked her if the Harley boys wore such clothes. "They were little fellows, about the size of Twaddles—how could one of them wear long trousers? And you were eight months old, just a little baby. You are thinking of some other boys you have seen."

Because Father Blossom had insisted that Mother Blossom was to enjoy a real vacation, there was very little unpacking to be done. The Winthrops had left their bungalow fully furnished, and though there was no one on the island to help with the housework, Mother Blossom declared that if they all helped her there would not be much to do. In a few days they felt very much at home and the children voted Apple Tree Island quite as delightful as Brookside Farm.

"Where you going, Dot?" Twaddles called one morning soon after they had arrived.

"I was going to look for you," said Dot importantly. "We're all going over on the ten o'clock boat—Captain Jenks' boat, you know. Mother has some letters to mail, and she wants us to take the wash over, that is if Captain Jenks knows any one in Greenpier who will wash and iron dresses. Meg and Bobby are down on the wharf with the basket now."

"Well, well, how are all my friends?" Captain Jenks greeted them when his boat came chugging up to the wharf and he saw a patient row of small people waiting to go on board. "Want to come now, or shall I stop on the return trip?"

"We'd like to sail back with you," aid Bobby. "Mother thought you didn't go any farther up."

"Special trip this morning," answered the captain. "Have to stop at the island north of Harley's shack to see if any one's violating game laws. I'm a little of everything 'round here—sheriff and warden and lake captain. You can come, and welcome."

"We have to take care of the twins," Bobby informed him as the four little Blossoms marched aboard over the gangplank Captain Jenks let down especially for them. "Meg and I are old enough to go to town but Dot and Twaddles are only four."

"What is in the basket?" asked the kind captain, fearing an explosion from Twaddles, who was furious at this public reference to his age.

"Oh, that's the wash!" said Bobby. "Mother wants to know if any one in Greenpier will wash and iron clothes?"

"Four of you going specially on that errand, I suppose," chuckled the captain, "and not one of you remembered what you were going for. Sure I know some one who will wash 'em and iron 'em up in great style and be glad of the job. Mrs. Clayton's her name. Here, Bobby, you don't have to get off—I'll catch that basket."

Captain Jenks took a long pole with a hook on one end of it that he used to hook fruit baskets and crates and bundles with, and neatly drew the clothes basket on board. Mother Blossom had tied the clothes in securely and put paper over the top, knowing, perhaps, that the basket was destined to have an adventurous journey.

"Are there smugglers on the island?" Bobby asked the captain, as the motor-boat churned up the water swiftly, and they left Apple Tree Island behind.

"Well, no, I wouldn't say that," replied the captain. "But we've had it reported that people living in Reville, that's a town up Sunset Lake almost opposite Kidd's Island where we're going, have seen fires on the beach at night. It's closed season now for the birds, and if any one is shooting 'em, we want to know it."

"Are you a policeman?" asked Twaddles in awe.

"Something like it," admitted the captain. "Leastways, I'm a deputy sheriff. Pretty place, isn't it?"

The boat was approaching the island, and it was indeed a pretty place. It was smaller than Apple Tree Island and had fewer trees, but it was completely covered with thick green grass brightly starred over with daisies. And not a single daisy grew on Apple Tree Island!

"Oh, oh, oh!" cried Meg softly. "How lovely! See, Dot, millions and millions of daisies."

"You can pick some while I take a look around," said Captain Jenks, fastening the boat with an iron chain and hook to a ring sunk in a wooden post. There was no wharf because no one lived on the island to build one and very few boats came there anyway.

Bobby and Twaddles stuck close to the captain's heels, but Meg and Dot determined to get some daisies to take home to their mother. They worked busily, and by the time the others were back from their inspection of the little open shed which was the only shelter on the island, the two girls had large bouquets.

"Were there any smugglers?" asked Dot half-fearfully.

"That's a silly story, that smuggler stuff," pronounced Captain Jenks. "To my mind a man who breaks the game laws is worse than a smuggler. We found the ashes of his campfire and this." He held up a pair of bird wings.

"The poor little bird!" exclaimed Meg compassionately. "How can any one shoot a bird!"

"It's all right sometimes, isn't it?" Bobby insisted. "Jud goes gunning, Meg, you know he does."

"I've nothing to say against it when the season is open," said the captain.

Captain Jenks seemed saddened by the discovery of the pretty, spotted wings, but when he had put them away in a little box in the cabin he cheered up and admired the daisies.

"You'll find string in that toolchest," he directed them. "Going to make two bunches? That's right—I don't like to see flowers crowded even after they're picked."

The two bunches were tied to the rail as a safe place and one in which they would not be easily crushed. The motor-boat—by the way, its name was The Sarah, painted in green letters; you haven't been told that before, have you?—was now chugging down the lake toward Greenpier, and Bobby and Meg were taking their first lesson in managing the wheel. Twaddles had found a compass in the toolchest and was having a wonderful time playing with that. Dot thought the time had come to put an idea of hers into practice.

"They look wilted," she told herself, eyeing the daisies with disfavor. "What they need is water."

So this mischievous child took a long string and tied it to each bunch of daisies; then she held it in the middle and allowed them to trail in the water.

The Sarah was almost at Greenpier before Meg glanced toward Dot and saw what she was doing.

"Dot Blossom!" she cried, rushing toward her. "You'll spoil 'em.
Oh, Bobby, look what Dot's doing to the daisies!"

In her anxiety to get the daisies wet, Dot had climbed to the top of the rail, and when Meg shouted at her so suddenly she was startled. She tried to catch the rail, missed it, and tumbled into the water.

Dear, dear, there was a hubbub, you may be sure. Luckily the boat was in very shallow water and a man sitting on the wharf jumped in and had Dot in his arms almost as soon as she splashed. He was Mr. Harley and he easily walked ashore. The water was only as high as his waist.

"You're not drowned," he kept telling Dot, who was sadly frightened and crying bitterly. "You're only wet, Sister."

"Take her up to Mrs. Clayton's," ordered Captain Jenks. "We were headed for there, and she always has a big fire on account of the ironing. She'll know what to do."

Apparently Mr. Harley knew where Mrs. Clayton lived, for he strode away with Dot in his arms. Captain Jenks, Meg and Bobby and Twaddles had to run to keep up with him. He stopped before a whitewashed cottage with a woman ironing in the large front room.

"Can you dry this baby off and give her something hot to drink?" asked Captain Jenks, and Mrs. Clayton held out her arms for Dot.

The little girl was indignant at being called "baby" but her teeth were chattering from cold and fright, and the hot cocoa Mrs. Clayton presently gave her tasted very good. She went off to sleep after that, wrapped in a warm blanket, and woke to find her clothes dry and ironed.

Mrs. Clayton was a stout, comfortable, jolly kind of woman who did washing and ironing for the Summer people on the various islands and in the shore towns that bordered Sunset Lake. She promised to have Mother Blossom's clothes ready a week from that day, and the children trotted back to the boat, Dot none the worse for her experience. They knew no one at home would be worried, though Dot had slept two hours, because they were not expected back till the afternoon boat.

"We had cocoa and jelly sandwiches while you were asleep," Twaddles informed his sister. "And Mrs. Clayton has a ship carved out of a piece of bone!"

At the wharf they found Mr. Harley and Chris Smith, the boathouse man, and Captain Jenks, all very glad to see them and glad that Dot's ducking had not been worse. The captain had several other passengers to another island on this trip.

"I'll be over in a day or two," said Mr. Harley, as the children boarded The Sarah. "Might as well look around the place once in a while."

Father Blossom was waiting on their wharf when they reached Apple Tree Island, and his first question was whether they had found some one to do the washing to save Mother Blossom from attempting too much.

"Yes, and she's already started," cried Bobby eagerly. "She washed and ironed Dot!"