“In so many countries that you would have to go round the world to visit them all.” She thought to herself, “they don't grow in the ocean.”
“You speak of twenty-three years having passed. That's not so long. I have read of sailors being away longer than that and finally returning home. Men have stayed in prison longer than that and have come out into the world again. Why, Quincy is only fifty-three now.”
“And I'm seventy—an old woman some think me, and others call me so, but if I were sure that by living I could see Quincy again, I'd manage some way to keep alive until he came.”
“You are just lovely, Aunt Ella, and I love you more than ever for those words. I believe that Quincy wants me to come to him—and I am going!”
“My dear Alice, I'm sure the only way you will ever see Quincy is by going to him, for he can never come to you.”
The next day Alice spent in studying the cyclopedias and maps. She estimated the cost of a six months' trip to the citron groves of Europe and America. For a week she pondered over the matter.
Then something occurred that led her to make up her mind definitely. She had the same dream for the fourth time. She awoke screaming, and shaking with terror. Her aunt was awakened and ran to her room.
“What is it, Alice? Dreaming again?”
“Yes, the same and yet different. I saw a big man raise a club and strike Quincy on the head. He fell and I awoke.”
Aunt Ella grew cynical. “Why didn't you wait long enough to see the effect of the blow?”