Elisha crossed his heart in proof of his veracity. “And if you don’t b’lieve me, go over to Cole’s and ask them.”
The advice seemed good. Jerry took to his heels. It was a mistake, of course, either one of ’Lish Snooks’ lies, or else a mistake. Yet a horrible doubt rose in the midst of his assertions of confidence, like the head of a snake lifted amid a bed of flowers.
At the Cole farmhouse every one was astir. Mrs. Cole who had just returned from Dolittle Cottage, and was going back to spend the night, after attending to some necessary household tasks, was crying softly as she worked and talked.
“Those poor children! Seems as if they couldn’t take in what had happened. They’re dazed like. The one that looks delicate, Ruth, had a bad fainting spell, and the plump little one, she breaks down and cries every now and then, but the other two, they sit around white and still, not saying a word or shedding a tear. ’Tain’t natural. The Lord meant tears to ease our hearts, when the load’s too heavy to bear. It worries me when I see folks taking their trouble dry-eyed.”
“How are they going to let their folks know, ma?” asked Rosetta Muriel, her voice strangely subdued. The sudden tragedy had stirred her shallow nature to its depths. Though a small mirror hung against the wall at a convenient distance, she did not glance in its direction. For an hour she had not smoothed her hair, nor pulled her ribbon bow into jaunty erectness, nor indicated by any other of the familiar forms of self-betrayal the all-absorbing importance of her personal appearance. Her hands lay idle in her lap, and her face was pale, under her dishevelled hair.
“Joe’ll drive over to the station with a telegram the first thing in the morning,” Mrs. Cole replied. “We could telephone by going to Corney Lee’s, but I don’t know why the poor souls shouldn’t have one more night of quiet sleep, for they can’t take anything earlier than the morning train anyway. And, besides, a telegram kind of brings its own warning, but to go to the ’phone when the bell rings, and hear news like this, must be ’most more than flesh and blood can bear.”
Her gaze wandered to the boy standing by the door. “You’ll go over with the rest of the men in the morning, won’t you, Jerry?” she asked. “I guess there won’t be many sleeping late to-morrow.”
Jerry had refused a chair, but had stayed on, listening to such meagre information as was to be had, the discovery of the overturned canoe, and later of Peggy’s hat, stained and water-soaked. As to the cause of the catastrophe no one could be sure, though Mrs. Cole hazarded a guess. “That little Dorothy was as full of caper as a colt, and anything as ticklish as a canoe ain’t safe for a child of that sort.”
Looking at Jerry, the good woman was almost startled by the drawn misery of the boy’s white face. She had not credited him with such keen sensibilities.
“You’d better go home and get to bed, Jerry,” she said kindly. “The men are going to start as soon as it’s light enough, and you’d ought to get a good sleep first.”