Mrs. Hopkins did not answer, but instead, asked, “Where is your father?”
“Down at the Fountain Inn, I suppose; it is where he always goes of an evening. They have a deal to talk about, it seems, down there.”
“They have, indeed, but isn’t that your uncle coming now?” Mrs. Hopkins had come out upon the step and was peering out into the dimly lighted street.
“To be sure it is,” Lettice replied. “I will go to meet him, for Mr. Gilmore will stop him if I don’t get him over on this side of the street.” She started off with rapid step, her light scarf floating from her shoulders as she walked.
“She’s in!” shouted Danny, who came running on ahead of his master.
At this news Lettice slackened her pace and walked soberly forward to meet her uncle. “Good news, I hear, Uncle Tom,” she said as she came up to him.
“Ye-es,” he returned, “so far as I am concerned, but—”
“What?” Lettice interrupted. “Hurry and tell me, Uncle Tom. What’s wrong? Did anything happen to the vessel?”
“Not to the vessel, except that she was stopped by a British cruiser, and three of our men were carried off as British subjects.”
“Oh! And who were they? Not Patrick Flynn, I hope. His mother declares that something has happened to him, for she has had a certain dream three nights in succession,—a dream which she insists forebodes ill.”