Johnny gripped both her hands against the front of his jacket and took a deep breath. The other boys looked embarrassed. Eben stared down at his feet. He suddenly realized that they were bare, bare and not very clean. He owned a pair of shoes, of course, but he only wore them on Sundays and in the wintertime.
“Glad you came back, Sally Rose,” he said, not looking at her.
“Oh, thank you, Eben,” she answered sweetly. “I’m so glad that you’re glad.”
Johnny opened his eyes wide and gave Eben an unfriendly stare.
“Hey, Kit,” said Dick, “I haven’t seen you since—”
The brown-haired girl smiled. “You’d have seen me if you’d looked,” she said. “I passed you by the ropewalk last Friday afternoon. I was going to Polly Little’s to bring home some tulip bulbs for Granny. I waved to you, but you wouldn’t see me. You were too busy cleaning a tar barrel.”
Dick looked down at the worn planks of Somerby’s Wharf. It was dark beside the river now, and the only light came from the windowpanes of the small houses along the street.
“I’m sorry, Kitty,” he said.
“It doesn’t matter, Dick,” she answered. Her blue eyes smiled at him. Her voice sounded soothing and kind.
The five of them stood there, silent in the spring night and the sharp sea wind. Johnny shifted his feet uneasily. Even Sally Rose did not know what to do or say.