"What?" cries Bob, with angry bitterness. "Then you'll actually let me sail in the beastly rotten old tub to-morrow, and live the life of a water-rat for the next six months—perhaps never see me again—rather than say one word that would save me? Oh, I never heard of such confounded selfishness in all my life! I never imagined that any one calling herself a sister could behave so!"
"Oh, Addie, Addie, don't be so hard, so selfish!"
"Don't send away poor Bob like that. Go after him—go after him, quick!"
"But my foot—my foot—I can scarcely walk! I should never catch him now," she pleads.
"Yes, you could—here's your stick; he has stopped to light his cigar at the gate. Go!"
Thus urged, she limps painfully after him, calling his name, but he does not hear her, and the distance between them increases. She is about to give up the pursuit in despair, when he stops a second time to caress a tawny mongrel that has wriggled itself fawningly between his legs; then her voice is borne to him on the light summer breeze. He turns and advances quickly to meet her, with a glad smile and outstretched hands.
"Have you come to say good-by to me, Addie?"
"Yes—no—yes," she answers breathlessly, unconsciously clinging to him to steady her shaking knees. "It's—it's—about Robert. Need he—must he join his ship on Saturday?"
He looks thoroughly bewildered.
"Need he join what ship—where? I don't understand."