“It wouldn't hurt her, but it really would be better to take her up to Lizzie's. You and she could come back together to-morrow.” “Oh, it's me too! Now what is all this about, anyway?” The Captain, instead of replying, spoke to himself: “I can't believe it. There has been a mistake made. They never should have sent a boy of his age to do such work.” “What work? Is there something you have promised not to tell me?” “Yes, there is. Don't ask me what it is. Just talk it over with Annie, and see if she won't go with you up to Lizzie's.” Mrs. Fargo threw a glance at her husband, hesitated, then went up to Annie's room. “Let me in, dear.” Annie obeyed. “I want you to put on your things and go out with me.” “Not to Aunt Lizzie's?” “Yes. Your father thinks--” “Has _he_ been talking to father, then?” “Your father and I have been talking it over. He hasn't told me just why he asks it--” “But I know.” “Oh, do you?” There was a note of burning curiosity in these three words. “Yes, I do. And I don't believe a word of it.” “It's nothing very bad, I hope?” “Oh, I don't mean that I understand it all, but I know something about it. Mr. Beveridge had no right to go to father.” “Oh, it was Mr. Beveridge?” “Yes, it was. Tell me, mother, did he--do you know what else he said?” “No, I haven't asked him. But he wants us to go very much, and I don't think we had better say anything.” “He wants you to go, too?” “Yes.” “Now, mother, you won't think I'm very bad if I--don't go?” “I'm afraid your father--” “Father doesn't understand it himself, I'm sure. It is all a mistake--” “Your father thinks that, too.” “Oh, does he? Then he won't mind if I don't go!” “I don't know. I 'll tell him what you say.” The mother slipped out, and returned to the kitchen. “She doesn't want to go, father.” “But I have asked her to. I can't explain to you, or her--” “She seems to know more than you do. She says it's a mistake.” “It is; it must be. But I said--” “Now, father, don't you think we'd just better not say anything more? Nobody is going to hurt us in our own home.” “No, he said that himself.” “Well, now, suppose we just let her have her way. I could see something was troubling her, and I think she'd best be let alone.” The Captain had done what he could, so now he returned to his nets and left his wife to begin getting supper. Beveridge was standing at the shore end of the pier waiting for Wilson, fish-pole on shoulder, to approach. “Well, what luck, Bert?” Wilson held up a small string of perch. “Fair. It's too late in the day to catch many.” “Going up to the house?” “Yes, I guess so.” Then their voices dropped. “Where will you be, Bill?” “In the park here, by the road. You 'll be back early?” “Yes, soon as I can make the arrangements.” “You have spoken to them at headquarters?” “Yes.” “All right. So long.” “So long.” At seven o'clock, after supper, Captain Fargo was hailed by Henry Smiley.