Suddenly the whistle at the cold-storage plant began to blow for noon, and the old man rose stiffly, saying:
“I’m a long way from home, I should have started back sooner.”
“Oh, but you haven’t finished the story!” cried the boy, in distress at this sudden ending. “It _couldn’t_ stop there.”
Georgina caught him by the sleeve of the old blue jacket to pull him back to the seat beside her.
“Please, Uncle Darcy!”
It was the first time in all her coaxing that that magic word failed to bend him to her wishes.
“No,” he answered firmly, “I can’t finish it now, but I’ll tell you what I’ll do. This afternoon I’ll row up to this end of the beach in my dory and take you two children out to the weirs to see the net hauled in. There’s apt to be a big catch of squid worth going to see, and I’ll finish the story on the way. Will that suit you?”
Richard stood up, as eager and excited as Captain Kidd always was when anybody said “Rats!” But the next instant the light died out of his eyes and he plumped himself gloomily down on the step, as if life were no longer worth living.
“Oh, bother!” he exclaimed. “I forgot. I can’t go anywhere. Dad’s painting my portrait, and I have to stick around so’s he can work on it any old time he feels like it. That’s why he brought me on this visit with him, so’s he can finish it up here.”
“Maybe you can beg off, just for to-day,” suggested Mr. Darcy.