“You are leaving the island?” Gale asked. Somehow the thought alarmed her.
“Perhaps,” Brent smiled. “I’m not sure yet. I don’t want to leave until the day of the races but I might have to.”
“Are you perfectly comfortable?” Gale asked eagerly. “Can I get you something?”
“You might bring some books for me the next time you come,” he said. “I don’t know what to do with myself all day long.”
“I’ll bring some over tonight,” Gale promised.
“There is no need for that,” he said. “Wait until tomorrow.”
But Gale did not want to wait. Immediately the boat nosed into the wharf, Stubby departed as silently and mysteriously as he had appeared in the Howard yard. Gale went home and into her room. Books overflowed a large bookcase against one wall and peeped from under the window seat. She chose four volumes she thought he would like and decided to find out his favorite authors and take more on the morrow.
She peeped into the living room before she went out again. Her mother was asleep. Gale smiled softly and closed the door behind her.
Brent Stockton accepted the books eagerly. It seemed she had brought just what he would like.
“Then you aren’t angry?” she asked when he was walking slowly, with the aid of an improvised cane, beside her to the boat. “You aren’t angry with me for bringing Stubby over?” she insisted, stopping and looking up at him, young and slight in the moonlight.