“It’s all utterly impossible, of course,” said Rob’s mother, in turn, her mouth closing tightly as she looked around at her son.
Mrs. Wilcox said less, but kept her hand on Jesse’s shoulder. “What would you do at night with no one to see you safe in bed, my son?” said she, at length.
“Oh, mother!” began Jesse, shamefacedly.
“I’ll take care of the boys,” said Uncle Dick, at length. “I won’t mollycoddle them, and they will have to shift for themselves, but I’ll see that they get through all right. Think it over, good people. It will be the making of the kids.”
“Oh, well now, Richard,” began Mrs. Hardy, once more, “how do we know when you are coming back?”
“You don’t know. I don’t know myself.”
“But these boys have to go to school.”
“Oh, I’ll get them back in time for the fall term. Boats are coming down from Kadiak every month or so.”
“But they say the storms out that way are perfectly frightful,” began Mrs. McIntyre.