"I don't know. Sometimes I get to feeling mighty queer about that water out there."
"You mean—; why—you ain't afraid of it, little girl, are you?"
"Afraid? There ain't nothing that I'm afraid of, Mister. Why, I'd go anywhere and not be afraid—"
He repeated her words very slowly to himself.
"You'd—go—anywhere—and—not—be—afraid—"
He thought then that the fog was lifting. A sickly, yellowish glow filtered through the heavy grayness. He could see her more distinctly.
"There's only one thing about the sea, Mister, that'd scare me, and that's—"
She broke off abruptly.
"What, little girl?"
"Why, Mister; why, I can't hardly say it. But there's Pa and there's my brother, Will. If anything ever happened—; if the sea ever did anything to Pa or Will, why—I guess, Mister, I'd just die."