Dennis obeyed him shuddering still.
“There’s no drowned man here,” said March sternly. “Why did you say there was?”
The child caught his breath with a jerk and his face grew white as ashes. The thing he so dreaded had come; he had betrayed himself. He glanced imploringly at his only hope—Perry, and his lip quivered.
“It was the weed he saw,” said Perry. “He’s always fanciful and nervous you know.”
“Nonsense,” said March. “These are his old tricks. I thought I’d cured you of this, Dennis.”
He left the shore with an angry glance at the child.
Dennis began to cry, and Perry laid a hand on his shoulder. Dennis clutched his arm.
“O Perry,” he wailed, “do go to him. Do speak to him. Do tell him I’m sorry. I’d n-never have said what I saw if I hadn’t thought everyb-body could see it t-too.”
“I thought so,” said Perry under his breath; “you do see these things and you pretend you don’t for fear of a licking.”
“Don’t tell. Please don’t tell; dear Perry, d-don’t tell.”