“The day is a-wastin’, wastin’, wastin’,
The day is a-wastin’, night draws nigh;
Lord in the twilight, Lord in the deep night,
Lord in the midnight be Thou nigh.”
I thought sometimes that the refrain, “The day is a-wasting, wasting, wasting,” would drive me mad. The day was wasting and would no one come to save grandpa’s shipyard?
Still Dave lingered and Uncle Horace had gone away suddenly; he had gone “up country,” Cyrus said; he did not know on what business; certainly not on any that was connected with the shipyard.
And then a very astonishing thing happened. Loveday had ceased her hymn-singing and had come as near to being cross as Loveday ever did. One day she summoned Octavia and me to a private interview in the kitchen. She locked all the doors and then stopped up the keyholes. Viola had, as we all knew, her weaknesses; but such precautions as these pointed to a revelation of unusual importance. As a general thing Loveday was serenely indifferent to Viola’s eaves-dropping.
“Loveday, Master Rob isn’t—isn’t worse?” I asked breathlessly—for she had just come from Uncle Horace’s.
“He ain’t no worse, nor yet he ain’t no better, nor he won’t be no better while things are as they be now. But that ain’t neither here nor there to what I’ve got to say,” said Loveday. She was in a state of great excitement and struggling hard for composure. I had seen the hand that filled the keyholes tremble; the ringlets dependent from her gray head were actually dancing.
My thoughts were a wild chaos of apprehension, which I dared not put into words. Had she heard that an accident had befallen Dave? Had she heard that grandma, who had gone to second-cousin Sarah Saunders’ to spend the day, had been smitten with paralysis? Had Uncle Horace become insane? Had some one stolen the contents of the blue yarn stocking which she kept between mattresses?—for Loveday would never trust her savings to a bank. Was she going to offer the contents of the blue stocking to aid in saving the shipyard?—that would be like Loveday, I thought, if she could possibly think that so small a sum would be of any avail.