“Of course—of course—a wireless—I remember now. Poor Danny, poor Danny. And did you finish your bonnet in time?”
“In time for what, Grandpa Jim?”
“In time to wear. Well never mind if you didn’t. You can buy plenty more. I have left you everything, Mary Louise dear, everything—but I wish I had left Danny something, not that he will want it. He is an independent lad and wanted to pay me board. Ha! Ha! That was a joke indeed. But I liked the spirit in him. I am going back to sleep now, honey. Please tell Peter Conant to come see me a little later in the day. I shall want his advice.” The old man closed his eyes and, with a tired sigh, sank into a state of coma.
He passed away a few hours later. His death was quiet and painless. One moment he was breathing gently and the next moment he was not. Mary Louise stood bravely by. She was able to thank the Creator that her poor grandfather was not to live a life of misery, with his once powerful mind gone. She repeated to herself over and over his last sweet words and was grateful beyond expression for what he had said about her dear Danny.
“If Danny only knew!” she kept on repeating. “If he only knew how much Grandpa Jim really loved him.”
“He did know once,” Irene assured her. Irene had been taken into her friend’s confidence at last and they had had a heart to heart talk about the whole wretched matter. “Perhaps he knows now how the Colonel really felt about him.”
“But he couldn’t know unless some one has tried to reach him by wireless. Indeed I wish we could.”
“Well, he may just sort of feel it. People do sometimes,” Irene hastened to mend the break she had made.
There was no doubt in the minds of Danny Dexter’s many friends at Dorfield that the boat on which he had sailed had gone to the bottom with all on board unless some of them had taken to lifeboats. Even then, the storm that raged for days in that latitude from which the Spokane had sent her agonizing S.O.S. calls had, without doubt, done for those boats. It was reported that no one could possibly have lived at sea in an open boat during the terrible hurricane that had swept the seas. Danny was given up for lost and to Irene fell the sad task of breaking the news to Mary Louise.
Colonel Hathaway’s funeral was over, the simple impressive rites suitable for the fine old character. The little peculiarities developed during the last few months of his life were entirely forgotten by the many friends who sincerely mourned his loss. He had been a good citizen, public spirited and generous, a fine staunch friend and a man to whom the business world looked with interest, as he had a genius for making good investments. The papers were full of his praises and appreciation of him was on every tongue.