“No, mother,” the boy answered solemnly. Then after a moment he said, “I got something to tell you, mother. But I don't know whether I hadn't better wait till morning.”
“It's most morning, now, Joey, I reckon, if it ain't already. That's the twilight comin' in at the door. If you wouldn't rather get your sleep first—”
“No, I can't sleep till I tell you, now. It's about the Good Old Man.”
“Did he—did he go up?” she asked fearfully.
“No, mother, he didn't. Some of them say he was took up, but, mother, I believe he was drownded!”
XXII
“Drownded?” the boy's mother echoed. “What do you mean, Joey? What makes you believe he was drownded?”
“I seen him.”
“Seen him?”