“This is the best bread ’n’ butter I ever ate,” said Judith between bites.
There proved to be the “good eight” barrels, when they were done, and they were done by six o’clock, or a very little after. By half-past six, the barrels had been rolled down the slope of the beach to the little wharf not far away. Then the tired two rested, and remembered muscles and sleep.
They dropped in the soft, moist sand and rubbed their aching arms.
“I’m proud o’ you, Jemmy!” Judith said shyly, and looked away over the water. Her repentance had come back and lay heavily on her heart. She longed unutterably to recall those evil thoughts—to have another chance out there beyond to summon Jemmy Three with the little shrill old signal. How she would send it shrilling forth now!
“Jemmy,” she said slowly, as they waited, “you know our signal, don’t you? The one we used to practice so much.”
For answer Jemmy Three pursed his lips and sent out a clear “carrying” cry.
“Well, I wish—don’t you know what I wish?”
“’Twas Christmas,” Jemmy said flippantly, but he knew. He dug his bare toes in the sand—a sign of embarrassment.
“I wish I’d called you out there at the school!” lamented Judith, “even if you couldn’t have heard. I wish—I wish—I wish I’d called! If I ever strike another school—Jemmy, I’d give you half o’ this one if I dared to. But I’m afraid to have Blossom wait—I don’t dare to!”
“O’ course not,” agreed Jem Three vaguely. He did not at all know what Judith meant. Girls had queer ways of beginnin’ things in the middle like that. No knowin’ what a girl was drivin’ at, half the time!