It was with a quavering voice that Mrs. Billington said:
“Under the circumstances, Mr. Hatterly, I think you might tell me all she said—all—all—”
Here Mrs. Billington drew herself up and spoke with a certain dignity. “I should explain to you, Mr. Hatterly, that during the return trip I was not feeling entirely well, myself, and I probably was not as observant as I should have been under other circumstances.”
Miss Billington, (as before, reflectively).—“Poor Ma! She was so sick that she went to sleep with her head on my feet. I believe it was that Peterson girl who was nearest the port ventilator.”
Mr. Hatterly’s tone was effusively grateful. “I knew that I could rely upon your clear sense, my dear Mrs. Billington,” he said, “as well as upon your kindness of heart. Very well, then; the first thing I knew as I sat there alone, steering, almost blinded by the spray, Carmelita slipped her hand through the ventilator and caught mine in a pressure that went to my heart.”
Miss Billington (as before, but without stopping to reflect).—“If I find out the girl that did that—”
Mr. Hatterly went on with warm gratitude in his voice: “And let me add, my dear Mrs. Billington, that every single time I luffed, that dear little hand came out and touched mine, to inspire me with strength and confidence.”
Miss Billington (as before, with decision).—“I’ll cut her hand off!”
“And in the lulls of the storm,” Mr. Hatterly continued, “she said to me what nothing but the extremity of the occasion would induce me to repeat, my dear Mrs. Billington; ‘Jack,’ she said, ‘I am yours, I am all yours, and yours forever.’”
Miss Billington (as before, but more so).—“That wasn’t the Peterson girl. That was Mamie Jackson, for I have known of her saying it twice before.”