"That isn't true, is it?" asked Elizabeth. "Do herrings go back to the place where they were born?"
"Yes, and sometimes they swim a great many hundreds of miles to get there. They seek the Southern waters in the cold weather, you know, but they always come back once a year to the stream in which they were born," Elizabeth's father explained to her.
"The place where their great-grandfathers were spawned. It's natural," Grandfather said.
"I guess it is natural," Elizabeth said, soberly.
They took a drive in the new roadster that afternoon, and Buddy seemed so happy and so free during the entire course of the day that Elizabeth was entirely unprepared to find him, as she found him some time after supper, flung across the bottom of the big four-poster bed in the guest room, with his head buried in his hands.
"Buddy," she said, "Buddy, dear."
"Oh, I'm all right, Sis. Run along."
"I thought perhaps you wanted to walk with me to the post office."
"I do, but it isn't time yet."