Then a bright idea occurred to her. “I’ve a great mind, Pauline, to ask Kirke to come down here and stay with Donny while we go up there.”
And she bent her neck backward to gaze to the top of the dizzy height. Upon the side where they stood and also upon the side fronting the ocean the cliff was almost perpendicular.
“Oh, do ask him!” returned Pauline. “He and Paul have been through the fortress twice, and we haven’t seen so much as the shed.”
“I’d scream to him and ask him, Molly,” said Weezy, ever free with advice.
“Come up—to see—the ru-ins!” repeated Kirke on a higher key, wondering why they vouchsafed no reply.
“Answer him, Molly, do, or he’ll crack the ears of France,” cried Pauline at her elbow.
Molly laughed.
“Take pity on me, Miss Ready-wit, and stop being so funny,” she entreated, proceeding to make a speaking-tube of her hands, and calling energetically to Kirke, “Will you—come down—to look out—for Donald?”
Though sweet and full, her tones were not very strong. “Look out” was all that Kirke could distinguish of her sentence. “Can’t hear,” he vociferated; “speak louder.”
“We’ll go—if you’ll—look out—for Don!” shouted Molly explosively, nearly splitting her throat. “Will you do it?”