“Nothin', or I should 'a' 'eard. My notion is that Martha kep' on to Toronto with that sick man she nursed on the steamer. Maybe she's got work stiddy and isn't a-goin' to come back.”
“But she would have let you KNOW?” There was a ring of anxiety now, tinged with a certain impatience.
“Perhaps she would, Mr. Felix, and perhaps she wouldn't. Since our mother died Martha gets rather cocky sometimes. Likes to be her own boss and earn her own living. I've often 'eard her say it before I left 'ome, and she HAS earned it, I must say—and she's got to, same as all of us. I suppose you been keepin' it up same as usual—trampin' and lookin'?”
“Yes.” This came as the mere stating of a fact.
“And I suppose there ain't nothin' new—no clew—nothin' you can work on?” The speaker felt assured there was not, but it might be an encouragement to suggest its possibility.
“No, not the slightest clew.”
“Better give it up, Mr. Felix, you're only wastin' your time. Be worse maybe when you do come up agin it.” The ship-chandler was in earnest; every intonation proved it.
O'Day arose from his seat and looked down at his companion. “That is not my way, Carlin, nor is it yours; and I have known you since I was a boy.”
“And you are goin' to keep it up, Mr. Felix?”
“Yes, until I know the end or reach my own.”