"Miss Berry! Elizabeth Berry?... Is she there now?"
The boy nodded. "Um-hm," he declared, "she's there, but I guess they're 'most done. I heard her chair scrape a minute or two ago, so I think she's comin' right out."
Kendrick rose from his own chair. "I'll wait outside," he said, and went out to the platform again. Josiah, evidently lonely and seeking conversation, hailed him at once.
"Say, that old horse of yours is a cribbler, ain't he," he observed. "He's took one chaw out of that post already."
Sears paid no attention. He walked around to the rear of the little building and, leaning against its shingled side, waited, gazing absently across the fields to the spires and roofs of Orham village.
He was sorry that Elizabeth was there just at this time. True they met almost daily at the Fair Harbor office, but those meetings were obligatory, this was not. And meeting her at all, relations between them being what they were, was very hard for him. Since George Kent's disclosure of his feelings and hopes those meetings were harder still. Each one made his task, that of helping the boy toward the realization of those hopes, so much more difficult. He was ashamed of himself, but so it was. No, in his present frame of mind he did not want to meet her. He would wait there, out of sight, until she had gone.
But he was not allowed to do so. He heard the office door open, heard her step—he would have recognized it, he believed, anyway—upon the platform. He heard her speak to Josiah. And then that pest of an office boy began shouting his name.
"Cap'n Kendrick," yelled the boy. "Cap'n Kendrick, where are you?"
He did not answer, but the other imbecile, Josiah, answered for him.
"There he is, out alongside the buildin'," volunteered Josiah. "Cap'n Kendrick, they want ye."