“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!