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"Yes," she answered at last, feeling it would be best only to commit herself in Phil's own words, "she is very much cut up." "Whew!" whistled Phil; "that is worse than I thought!" And the matter ended in his going back to his picture and painting furiously for a few minutes, with an almost reflective air. They did not see anything of Dolly for weeks.
After all, there was no use in getting grouchy over his disappointment; Phil would keep; and so would Phil's sister, at least until Easter; or, better yet, he would get Phil to take him home with him over Sunday some time. He was passing the shops now, and stopped before a jeweler's window, his eye caught by a rather jolly-looking paper knife in gun metal.
The shouts of the coachers, urging Pratt to "take a walk" and asserting that it was "a dead sure thing," added in the completion of Phil's undoing; for, even though he did his best to put a straight one over, the ball was outside, and Pratt capered exultantly to first, while Roberts, grinning all over one side of his face, jogged home. "Take him out!"
"I think I know about Griselda," she said very kindly, looking into her face with her gentle eyes, blue and clear like Phil's. And then Griselda found courage to say how uneasy she was about the anxiety her aunts would be feeling, and a messenger was sent off at once to tell of her being safe at the farm.
"Shine your boots, sir?" said Dick to a gentleman just passing. "Not now; I'm in a hurry." "Blackin' boots is good exercise," continued Dick, answering the doubt in Phil's face. "I do it for the benefit of my health, thus combinin' profit with salubriousness." "I can't understand such long words," said Phil. "I don't know much English."
When they had finished, Phil's watch the only one of six which had neither run down for lack of winding or been incapacitated by immersion in salt water gave the hour as twenty minutes past seven. Comforted by food and drink, they warmed themselves at the fire and waited for the tide to recede far enough to allow a survey of the Adventurer.
It was evident that people expected Roscoe to make some reference to Phil's death in his sermon, or, at least, have a part of the service appropriate. By a singular chance the first morning lesson was David's lamentation for Saul and Jonathan. Roscoe had a fine voice.
Mike moved stolidly ahead, gripping his daughter and pulling her along with him. Phyllis, who was still clutching Mollie's arm, followed after, while Madge walked valiantly by Phil's side. "Leave go!" Mike shouted, raising his fist threateningly at Phyllis. Mollie cried out at the thought of possible hurt to her friend, but Phyllis did not falter.
A film of hard wariness covered the eyes of the boy as he looked across in the darkness at the other man. "He's got friends," was the dry, noncommittal answer that came to the range-rider after a moment's distinct pause. Yeager asked no more questions. There had been a "No trespass" sign in Phil's manner.
"We've all got enemies, I reckon," he said sulkily. "You're Phil's friend, and mine, too, of course. I dare say you have your faults like other men, but I don't have to listen to people while they try to poison my mind against you. What's more, I don't."
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