“All right, don’t cry. I’ll speak to the governor.”
But Perry spoke in vain. March was an obstinate thick-headed man, and he was very angry indeed. The vials of his righteous wrath descended on the luckless seer, who was utterly broken and unnerved in consequence. Perry also was very angry though not with the helpless little victim of March’s dull wits. When three days after the child’s punishment a drowned sailor was actually washed up at the Head, Perry boldly avowed his belief in the visions of Dennis. March was as angry with Perry as it was possible for him to be with his idolised only son. He made many acute and scathing remarks about ignorance, superstition, and naughty, lying, hysterical children whose imagination and hysteria must be crushed with the strong hand of authority.
Perry went away in a very bad temper, and Dennis remained behind in such a state of abject terror that he hardly dared to grasp his coffee cup when it was offered to him at the breakfast table lest it should prove to be an elusive and unshared vision.
On the evening of Perry’s departure Dennis stood at the door of his uncle’s study trying to make up his mind to go in. Like many men who never read anything save the daily paper March had a “study.” At last Dennis went in. March who was writing a letter looked up:
“Well, Dennis, what is it?”
“H-have you heard from Perry, Uncle?” stammered the child.
“Heard from Perry! The boy’s daft. He only left this morning.”
“O,” said Dennis nervously, “y-yes, so he did; I f-forgot.”
And he crept out again like a frightened mouse.
The next morning a telegram arrived for Perry which his father opened; it was from the friends with whom he was supposed to be staying asking the reason of his non-arrival; Perry was going over to play in a cricket match; hence their agitation. March rode over to them at once. Perry had not arrived; inquiries on the road gained no tidings of him. Search was made for him throughout that day and through the night and through the next day and still there was no news of Perry.