The Mystery on Cobbett's Island

like he’s used to,” Mrs. Thomas said as she brought in an extra chair from the dining room.
    There was much to tell El about the fallen tree, the work of cleaning after the storm, and their meeting with Peter.
    “Well, I’ll be back on the job in a few more weeks,” El said. “Doc says I’m making fine progress. You know, this is the first time I’ve been laid up since I started taking care of The Moorings.”
    “When was that?” Trixie asked him, more to make conversation than out of any real curiosity.
    “Well, let’s see now. It was about five years before Mr. Condon died, and he’s been gone eighteen or nine-teen years, so it’s close to a quarter century since I started in as yard boy.”
    Trixie’s ears pricked up, and she saw, as she glanced at Jim and the others, that they had imperceptibly leaned forward as El spoke.
    “I was just a young shaver then, and I didn’t care too much for work,” El continued with a smile, “but Mr. C, as we all called him, was as patient a man as I’ve ever met. He got me interested in gardening, and ’fore I knew it, I was actually looking forward to going to work. I even started to read up on shrubs and pruning and stuff like that so I could do a good job.”
    “You certainly have made the place beautiful,” Trixie said. “Did you ever work on Mr. Condon’s boat? I saw a picture of it down at the club the other day.”
    “No, it’s funny, but I never took to the sea, even though I was born and bred right here on this island and my grandfather was a whaler. It was my buddy, Ed, who was the sailor, and he went out on Sapphire every chance he could, until Mr. C’s heart got so bad he had to quit sailing. But, you know,” El continued reminiscently, “Mr. C never gave up to his illness. No, sir, he went out for walks every day, and Ed often went with him for company.
    “They even worked out some kind of sailing game to entertain them on the way. Ed used to laugh at me because I never could get the hang of it, but he and Mr. C used to get a lot of fun out of figuring the courses they set up.”
    “You said Ed was the sailor. Did he give it up, too, when Mr. Condon got sick?” Jim asked.
    El’s head lowered, and it was obviously an effort for him to continue the story, but he went on. “No, you see, my friend was lost at sea off a bunker boat, and Mr. C died a day or so after he heard that Ed was gone.”
    “How terrible!” Trixie exclaimed.
    “Well, it was awful hard on me,” El continued, “but the ones it really hit were Ethel and the baby. Ed had got married a couple of years before. That’s how he came to go out on the bunker boats. He had to earn more than he’d been making doing odd jobs and such.”
    “Whatever happened to his wife and baby?” Jim inquired solicitously.
    “She couldn’t stand living here anymore after Ed went, so she moved South-side. There was enough insurance money from the company that owned the boats to take care of them until the youngster went to school, and then Ethel started selling baked stuff—bread and muffins and cakes—and, you know, before long she’d built up enough business so she couldn’t handle it all from her home, and she opened up a little shop.”
    “She must have been a wonderful person,” commented Honey.
    “Are you talking about Ethel?” Mrs. Thomas asked as she came in from the kitchen with a plate of freshly baked cookies. “She’s one in a million, and her son, too. I get a card from them every Christmas.”
    Her cheerful presence broke the spell of sadness that had settled over the room. “Now, help yourself. I just made this batch this morning. It’s a new recipe, and I’m not sure they’re fit to eat,” she chattered on as she passed the plate. “My grandchildren like me to make different kinds. They live right next door, and I have to keep the cookie jar full for their visits.”
    “Never knew you to make a poor cookie—or anything else, for that matter,” El told her as he took a generous handful. “She’s the best cook on Cobbett’s Island.”
    Everyone agreed that the cookies were delicious, and Mrs. Thomas beamed as she saw the last one disappear. After thanking her and assuring El that all was going well at The Moorings, the Bob-Whites said good-bye.
    They had no sooner climbed into the Icebox than everyone started to talk at once. Now that Ed’s family had become a reality, they were more than ever deter-mined to find out if there was anything to the