“I don’t see as He could forget thee,” he said, with a certain finality in his tone that was comforting in its assurance,— “’specially when thee’s so much down by the sea here. He must see thee when He looks down to make the waves go back.”
Bertie looked up into the sunny sky, and a little smile broke over his face.
“I didn’t think of that,” he said, slowly. “I wonder if He does.”
“I’m main sure He must,” answered David, with an increase of confidence. “I ain’t no scholar, but I know teacher said as them words on my card were for everybody as would take un. Teacher knows all about it; I know she’d tell you as He doesn’t ever forget, and I can kind of understand it too, because He don’t forget the sea, you know.”
Bertie’s face looked a little less sad, though still very grave and thoughtful. He seemed to have a purpose in his mind, which he proceeded to confide to David.
“When will it be high tide, David?”
“In half an hour about.”
“Then I’ll wait for it,” said Bertie. “Let’s sit down just above high-water mark.”
David obeyed readily, and when they were seated upon the loose dry sand he looked at his little companion as if awaiting instructions.
Bertie rested his chin in his hand, in one of his favorite attitudes, and when he spoke it was with great deliberation.