"What did you tell me about Bobby, Elizabeth?"
She looked up. "I don't remember. Nothing that wasn't true."
Her eyes were filled with light, but she veiled them quickly, and Bobby wandered over to us. Old Goodwin had sat him down on the bank, and Tidda had put into his hands some more clams dripping mud, and was asking his advice, her elbows on his knees; and he listened soberly and with interest.
Eve told Bobby of the meeting of our company for the next week and the party.
He turned to me. "Doesn't that notice have to be in writing?" he asked.
I shook my head. "You'd better accept it. The whole company will turn out. It's to be a party for Ogilvie—birthday party."
And Olivia pricked up her ears at that, and listened shamelessly while Eve told Bobby about it.
"That's very good of you, Eve," he said, when she had finished. "I'll tell Jimmy, and I'll get word to Ogilvie. We can come unless something turns up. Something may turn up, you know, at any minute. We never know. If a fleet of submarines should get over here, and should start getting caught in our traps we'd have to go."
"Traps all set, Bobby?" I asked.
"Set but not baited," he replied. "I'm looking for bait now, likely-looking little pigs, Adam, and for somebody to feed 'em, and keep 'em squealing. It would be interesting work, and a pleasant sail every day. If you were really patriotic you'd be glad to do that much for your country. But you won't. I see it in your eye. I'll have to do it myself."