“Don’t—don’t be too hard on poor Chet, sir,” she sobbed. “He ain’t to blame.”
“Of course he isn’t,” admitted the hardware dealer heartily. “And I’m sure he’ll look out for Hannah’s Car’lyn—he and the dog.”
He plunged down the steps and kept on down the hill to the waterfront. There was an eating-place here where the waterside characters congregated, and Mr. Stagg put his head in at the door.
“Some of you fellers come out with me on the ice and look for a little girl—and a boy and a dog,” said Mr. Stagg. “Like enough, they’re lost in this storm. And the ice is going out.”
“I seen ’em when they went down,” said one man, jumping up with alacrity. “Haven’t they come back yet?”
“No.”
“Snow come down and blinded ’em,” said another.
“Do you reckon the spring freshet’s re’lly due yet?” propounded a third man.
“Don’t matter whether she be or not, Rightchild,” growled one of the other men. “The kids ought to be home, ’stead o’ out on that punky ice.”
They all rushed out of the eating-house and down to the nearest dock. Even the cook went, for he chanced to know Carolyn May.