“Who, Grandpa Jim?”
“My boy! Danny, of course! What other boy have I? I have been having a horrid nightmare that he and I had been having some misunderstanding. I am glad morning has come and it is all a dream. I can’t bear to have trouble between Danny and me even in a dream. Call him, Mary Louise! I must speak to him.”
“He is not here right now, Grandpa Jim,” said Mary Louise, trying hard to keep back the sob that was almost mastering her.
“Not here! Where on earth has the rascal gone?”
How different was his manner of speaking of Danny! A short time ago he would have called him a rascal, meaning it, and with a hard tone of voice; now his way of calling him a rascal was purely loving and playful.
“Where has he gone, child? Not far I hope, because I have a queer feeling about me somehow—a feeling that perhaps I am not going to be here very long and I must see Danny. Where is he? Don’t hide anything from me!”
“He is—he is—on the water,” answered Mary Louise slowly.
“Oh, now I seem to remember,” faltered Colonel Hathaway. His voice was strangely husky and Mary Louise had to put her ear close to catch the words.
“I seem to remember something about a telegram—a telegram sent collect. That wasn’t much like Danny to send a telegram collect—”
“It was a wireless, Grandpa Jim, and perhaps he could not prepay on shipboard.”