"Go up to your room, Deolda," said my aunt, "and rest." She patted her shoulder just as though she were a little girl, for all the thoughts that were crawling around our hearts.
When later in the day Conboy came, "Where's Deolda?" he asked.
"I'll call her," I said. But Deolda wasn't anywhere; not a sign of her. She'd vanished. Conboy and Aunt Josephine looked at each other.
"She's gone to him," said Conboy.
My aunt leaned toward him and whispered, "What do you think?"
"Hush!" said Conboy, sternly. "Don't think, Josephine! Don't speak. Don't even dream! Don't let your mind stray. You know that crew couldn't have made port in fair weather together. The strongest man won—that's all!"
"Then you believe—" my aunt began.
"Hush!" he said, and put his hand over her mouth. Then he laughed suddenly and slapped his thigh. "God!" he said. "Deolda—Can you beat her? She's got luck—by gorry, she's got luck! You got a pen and ink?"
"What for?" said my aunt.
"I want to write out a weddin' present for Deolda," he said. "Wouldn't do to have her without a penny."