“And you are to blame, Frank.”
“To blame!” said Frank, the angry color rising in his cheeks.
At the instant the door opened and Mrs. Hallock looked in.
“I have come for Mr. Green,” she said. “Little Herbert is ill.”
“He’s caught in the fog off the island,” said Frank, “and hasn’t been here this morning.”
“Can I do anything?” asked Harry, laying aside slate and books—but Mrs. Hallock was gone.
There was not a boatman in the village who would not risk danger that he could see, to fetch Captain Green to the little grandson whom he loved so well; but to go forth, no one knew whither, into the dense fog—of what use?
At least that was the reply made to Harry Cornwall at the town pier, when he gave the news.
“Who will lend me a boat?” questioned Harry.
“Youngster! you scarcely know how to pull an oar,” was the only answer his question received.