Of course Jeanne had learned under the Huntington roof that introductions were customary; but you see, when you've saved a person's life you feel as if that event were introduction enough without further ceremony. Also, when you've been kind to anybody, even an ungrateful boy, you have a friendly feeling for him afterwards. Besides, Jeanne rather liked boys, in a wholesome comrade-y sort of way.
But if Roger seemingly lacked gratitude, his mother did not. She knew that Lake Superior was both deep and cold and that even the best of swimmers had been drowned in its icy waters. She felt that she owed a large debt of thanks to the tall, mysterious young woman who had saved her only child from certain death. For two years, she had longed to pay that debt.
The Captain and Barney were landing when Jeanne reached the freight car. She ran down to hold out a hand to Barney. But Barney put his big hands behind his back.
"They ain't clean," said he. Then he turned to Old Captain and spoke in an undertone. "You got to tell her," he said. "I know I promised, but I can't."
"I guess it's got to be did," sighed the Old Captain, "but you got to stand by."
"This part of the wharf," remarked Jeanne, "looks a great deal battered up. Aren't some of the timbers gone?"
"Yes," returned Old Captain. "You see there was a bad storm last May—Barney was out in it. It—it damaged his boat some."
"Was Barney alone?"
"No. Your father and Michael was with him."
"Barney," demanded Jeanne, "where's my father now?"