“That’s just it, they don’t,” the seaman replied. “Of course I always get my supply from the station, but something went wrong with their delivery this week. I thought I had plenty for a couple of more nights, mistook an empty for a full can—but this afternoon I found out my blunder,” he admitted, “and I have a little fellow runs messages for me. I’d trust him with my hat,” the captain declared firmly, his hat being a very important possession of his, “I can’t see what happened to him! Well, I must be a-running,” he wound up, turning to leave.
“We’ll take you around in the car,” Dudley promptly offered. “Just you wait a minute, ’till I—hitch up.”
“I suppose it would be quicker,” admitted the captain. “But you see that storm a’comin’?” he asked Mr. Burke, as if the gentleman of the house was entitled to some attention.
“Yes; looks like a hummer,” Mr. Burke replied.
“An’ it’s blacker out there,” pointing toward the sea, “than ’tis in here,” the captain declared. “’An my light’s the Eye of the Lord to the sailors,” he said, lowering his voice reverently.
Dudley had hurried off for the car but Dick tarried on the porch, joking with the girls about their “show”, that they hadn’t invited the boys to see. Babs and Cara were standing aside with the grown-ups.
“We can go along,” Cara said quietly to Babs.
“But how about the other girls?” Babs inquired.
“They wouldn’t want to go, but, of course, I’ll ask them,” Cara replied, and she did so promptly.
“No, I guess not,” Louise answered. “Looks as if the storm was almost here and I’m scared to death of thunder-storms.”