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Updated: June 9, 2025
Come right down to it, Rick thought, listening to commercials was the price that had to be paid for entertainment. Not listening meant not paying the price. He didn't think that the point was particularly important, but there was a small element of justice in Barby's view. Their Sunday evenings on Spindrift, the private island off the New Jersey coast, usually ended with this particular program.
He looked from one to the other trying to make sense out of the stream of words. Barby's blue eyes sparkled, as did Jan's brown ones. Both were intent on having their say, and as a result, the boys understood neither. Not until hands had been shaken all around did the excited chatter of the girls begin to make sense. Apparently the very field where the boys had just landed was haunted.
Jan remained behind, because Steve had not given permission for the Morrisons to leave the island, and Rick refused to take the responsibility in spite of Barby's pleading. The best he could do was to promise to call Steve about it and perhaps get permission for future trips. The Sky Wagon landed at Whiteside pier, and the trio went to the nearby garage where the Brants' car was kept.
Barby drew up a chair beside her, and they sat silent for some time, while quiet tears from the eyes of each said a great many things. "Well, I hope you'll be as happy as you deserve to be," were Barby's first words, in a voice very altered from its accustomed firm and spirited accent. "Make some better wish for me than that, dear Barby."
Skillcorn had been called in good time by Barby, at Fleda's suggestion, and coming down stairs had opined discontentedly that "a man hadn't no right to be took out of bed in the morning afore he could see himself." But this, and Barby's spirited reply, that "there was no chance of his doing that at any time of day, so it was no use to wait," Fleda did not repeat.
He decided to walk down to the cove and meet Scotty. He could help carry the groceries. Besides, he hoped that Scotty would have a package for him from a biological supply house. Rick's interest in microscopy had begun with Barby's present of a complete microscope set. It was a beauty, with magnifications up to three hundred times.
It was warm and cozy in there for a small fire still burned in the little drum stove. She opened the front damper to make it burn faster, and the light shone out in four long rays which made a flickering in the room. She sat down on the floor in front of it and began to wonder. "What did Cousin Mehitable mean by something eating Barby's heart out?" Did people die of it?
"Rick Brant! You knew all the time ... I mean, while Jan and I were ..." Barby's voice was trembling. He thought she was in tears. He hoped not; she shouldn't take legends so seriously ... Agent Taylor joined the group and chuckled. "You should have seen that Frostola man come out of the tunnel! I guess that final commercial shocked him silly."
It wore the same look it had done then; under Barby's rule it was precisely the same thing it had been under Cynthia's. The passing years seemed a dream, and the passing generations of men a vanity, before the old house, more abiding than they.
Doctor Huntingdon was so stirred by the scene that he found it difficult to go back to his letters, but the very next one in order happened to be the one Georgina wrote to her mother just after Belle had given her consent to Barby's being told of Emmett's confession. He read the latter part of it, standing, for he had sprung to his feet with the surprise of its opening sentence.
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