Grief will prevail.
When it turns blue
Peace will ensue.
When it turns red
Great things ahead.
At all events the prophetic little gem was not in sympathy with the weather. Wilfred stuck it back in his scarf.
Just then he could hear voices upraised outside; he thought supper must be ready, though there was no summoning horn. One voice shouted, “Come ahead, hurry up.” There was nothing particularly significant about this since they always “hurried up” at meal-time. He thought he might as well go to supper and see Doc afterward. He always dreaded going to meals, for at those clamorous gatherings his loneliness and unattached character were emphasized. When the boys spoke in undertones he always fancied that they were speaking of him. He often construed their casual, bantering talk as having some vague reference to himself. But he rendered himself less conspicuous by going in with the crowd, so for this reason he gave over waiting and started for the “eats shack.”
Scarcely had he emerged into the rainy dusk when he saw that it was not the summons to supper that was causing all the commotion. Something unusual was evidently happening.
CHAPTER XXIX
WHEN IT TURNS RED
One would have supposed that Wilfred, discredited and sensitive though he was, would have joined the excited throng which he saw running shoreward from the pavilion and from all the neighboring tents and cabins. For what he saw in the middle of the darkening lake was enough to obliterate animosity. Surely in those terrible moments they would not trouble themselves to look on him askance. But he remained apart as he had always done, an isolated figure on the shore, as clamorous, excited scouts by the dozen crowded on springboard and shore.