“Yes, mother.”
“Is that you?”
“Yes, I'm out here.”
“What is it?”
“Nothing. I'm going out for a breath of air.”
“Where are you going?”
“Oh, not far.”
“Come in soon, won't you?”
“Yes, of course. I'm not going off anywhere.”
There was apparently no further need for quiet, yet she was half a minute closing the front door after her. Again she looked up and down the beach. She could see the street now on the low bluff; but no one appeared within the light of the corner gas lamp. Then she hurried along the beach, climbed up on the pier by some rough steps that she knew, and walked rapidly out toward the schooner, stepping on the balls of her feet, and avoiding loose planks.