was he so minded. There's
no end to his money, seems to me. Just the same, you don't want to go
wastin' it for him on that account. Remember you ain't got the right
to, not havin' earned it. If he chooses to splash it round that's his
hunt. He made it. But it ain't yours or mine to slosh away. Jot that
down in your log. It may help you later."

Jerry paused.

"You deal square and honorable with the boss, standing up to what
you've done like you was a trooper at your gun, and he'll deal square
and honorable with you. But go to hoodwinking and imposing on him and
instead of a lamb you'll find you've got a rattlesnake at your heels.
Now you have an idea, I guess, what you're going to be up against
here," concluded the caretaker, taking out his pipe and cramming it
with tobacco. "If there's anything else you want to know now's your
chance, for after to-day I am never going to open my lips again about
any of the Crowninshield family. You'll be one of the employees and
your job will be to hold your tongue on them and their affairs, and be
loyal to 'em. Their bread will be feeding you and 'twill be only
decent. After you once have got your place the keeping of it will rest
with you. That's fair, ain't it?"

Walter nodded.

Yet he turned slowly toward home, depressed by a throng of misgivings.
Suppose he was not able to hold the job at Surfside once it was his?
What then?

CHAPTER III

WHAT WORRIED MRS. KING

By the middle of May Lovell's Harbor had fully awakened from its
winter's sleep. Freshly painted dories were slipped into the water;
newly rigged yawls and knockabouts were anchored in the bay; the float
was equipped with renovated bumpers, and a general air of anticipation
pervaded the community.

Yes, hot weather was really on the way. Already the summer cottages
were being opened, aired, and put in order, and even some of the
houses had gayly figured hangings at the windows and a film of smoke
could be seen issuing from the chimneys.

At Surfside workmen bustled about, hurrying across the lawn with
boards, paint pots, and hammers. Tim Cavenough and his little host of
helpers scurried to uncover the flower beds, and from morning to night
trudged back and forth from the greenhouses bearing shallow boxes of
seedlings which they transplanted to the gardens. Shutters were
removed and stored away, piazza chairs brought out, awnings put up,
and lawns and tennis courts rolled and cut.

As far as one coul