"I—I didn't do it," said Peter, hastily.
"Certainly not," said Mrs. Codman, wondering at his thinking it necessary to exculpate himself; "but you were saying something about—about boys being carried to sea against their will."
"I didn't mean anything," muttered Peter, regretting that he had put her on the right track.
"But you did, otherwise you would not have said it. For heaven's sake, tell me what you did mean, and all you meant. Don't fear to distress me. I can bear anything except this utter uncertainty."
She looked up earnestly in the old man's face.
Peter was somewhat amused at the idea that he might be afraid to distress her, but decided, on reflection, to tell her that all he chose she should be made acquainted with.
"Sometimes," he explained, "a captain is short of hands, and fills out his number the best way he can. Now perhaps one of the ships at the wharves might have wanted a boy, and the captain might have invited your son on board, and, ha, ha! it almost makes me laugh to think of it, might carry him off before he thought where he was."
"Do you laugh at the thought of such a cruel misfortune?" asked Mrs. Codman, startled from her grief by the old man's chuckle.
"I—excuse me, I didn't intend to; but I thought he would be so much surprised when he found out where he was."