“Warnin'?”
“Yes, a forewarnin', you know. 'The valley of the shadow—'”
“HUSH!” Captain Baker's face paled under its sunburn. “Don't say such things, Sophrony. If that happened, the Lord help you and me. But it won't—it won't. We're nervous, that's all. We're always so careful of Dusenberry, as if he was made out of thin china, that we get fidgety when there's no need of it. We mustn't be foolish.”
After supper Mrs. Baker tiptoed into the bedroom. She emerged with a very white face.
“Hiram,” she whispered, “he acts dreadful queer. Come in and see him.”
The “first mate” was tossing back and forth in the crib, making odd little choky noises in his swollen throat. When his father entered he opened his eyes, stared unmeaningly, and said: “'Tand by to det der ship under way.”
“Good Lord! he's out of his head,” gasped the Captain. Sophronia and he stepped back into the sitting room and looked at each other, the same thought expressed in the face of each. Neither spoke for a moment, then Captain Hiram said:
“Now don't you worry, Sophrony. The Doctor ain't home, but I'm goin' out to—to telegraph him, or somethin'. Keep a stiff upper lip. It'll be all right. God couldn't go back on you and me that way. He just couldn't. I'll be back in a little while.”
“But, oh, Hiram! if he should—if he SHOULD be taken away, what WOULD we do?”
She began to cry. Her husband laid a trembling hand on her shoulder.