All four of us, Mark, Plunk Smalley, Binney Jenks, and Tallow Martin, which is me, stood and looked at the big, ramshackle summer hotel and then looked at one another—and three of us grinned. Grinned, did I say? Maybe it started out with a grin, but it ended up with us rolling on the grass and yelling. For the hotel was closed tight, and anybody with half an eye could see it hadn’t been opened for years! The three of us who laughed didn’t include Mark Tidd. He didn’t laugh. He looked as if he was attending three funerals at once and trying to do his duty by all of them. He was flabbergasted—and that’s the first time I ever saw him in that shape. The whole hundred and sixty pounds of him was…
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