“Bo’sn! You? Then grandpa–oh, grandpa, darlin’, darlin’, why didn’t you wake me? I’ve got the nicest supper—Smell?”
With that she sprang up and darted within, over the few feet of space there was, but nobody was in sight; then out again, to call the captain from some spot where he had doubtless paused to exchange a bit of neighborly gossip. To him the night was the same as the day, the child remembered, and though it wasn’t often he overstayed his regular hour, or forgot his meal-time, he might have done so now. Oh, yes, he might easily have done so, she assured herself. But why should Bo’sn forsake his master and come home alone? He had never done that before, never. And why, oh, why, did he make that strange wailing noise? He frightened her and must stop it.
“Quiet, boy, quiet!” she ordered, clasping the animal’s head so that he was forced to look up into her face. “Quiet, and tell me–where is grandpa? Where did you leave grandpa?”
Of course, he could not answer, save by ceasing to whine and by gazing at her with his loving brown eyes as if they must tell for him that which he had seen.
Then, seized by an overwhelming anxiety, which she would not permit herself to put into a definite fear, she shook the dog impatiently and started down the Lane. It was full of shadows now, which the one gas street lamp deepened rather than dispersed, and she did not see a woman approaching until she had run against her. Then she looked up and exclaimed, “Oh, Posy Jane! You just gettin’ home? Have you seen my grandpa?”
“The cap’n? Bless you, child, how should I, seein’ he don’t sing on the bridge. Ain’t he come in yet?”
“No, and oh, Jane, dear Jane, I’m afraid somethin’ ’s happened to him. He never, never stayed away so late before an’ Bo’sn came alone. What s’pose?”
The flower-seller had slipped an arm about the child’s shoulders and felt them trembling, and though an instant alarm had filled her own heart, she made light of the matter to give her favorite comfort.
“What do I s’pose? Well, then, I s’pose he’s stayin’ away lest them rich folks what runs the ‘Harbor’ comes again an’ catches him unbeknownst. Don’t you go fret, honey. Had your supper?”
“No, Jane, an’ it’s such a splendid one. That lovely grocer man—”