"Maybe a ship will sight your box," the old man said slowly. "It's hard to say. Then again, it may never be found—it may float for years and not be picked up."
"I don't see why he doesn't go," Carrie muttered disagreeably to Polly. "I don't think your mother would like us to be talking to an old tramp."
"Why, Carrie, maybe he isn't a tramp! How do you know he doesn't live near here?" expostulated Polly. "And if he is a tramp, what harm is there in letting him sit by our fire? I wish you wouldn't talk so loud—he might hear you."
"Captain Mooney is awfully particular," said Carrie, apparently on another track. "Everybody says he won't let Ella talk to hardly anybody. He won't like it if he finds you had a tramp come to your party."
"Maybe you think I'd better go, young lady?" the old man asked, getting to his feet slowly and painfully. "I'm not welcome here?"
Shy, quiet little Ella Mooney surprised them all by bursting into speech.
"Don't go," she urged earnestly. "We want you to stay."
"I think I'd better go," the old man muttered, and tugged at his beard with both hands.
Carrie shrieked and clutched at Fred.
"Look!" she gasped.