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Grandpa Martin walked into the dark hole, his lantern flickering like a firefly at night. The Curlytops watched it until they could no longer see the gleam. Then they waited expectantly. "Maybe somethin'll grab grandpa," said Jan, after a bit. "What?" asked Ted. "A fox or somethin'!" "Pooh, he isn't afraid of a fox!" "Well, a bear, maybe!" "There isn't any bears here, Janet Martin!
Drat this everlastin' fog! somethin'll bump into us if we don't look out. Here, you go for'ard and light them cruisin' lights. They ain't colored 'cordin' to regulations, but they'll have to do. Go for'ard! What you waitin' for? "Well, it turned out that he didn't like to leave that cockpit. I was mad.
And he filled me up, the dog; he did it, to stop my goin' home. I'm drunk!" And he would continue: "Tell me who it was, Melina, or somethin'll happen to you." After having waited again, he went on with the slow and obstinate logic of a drunkard: "He's been keeping me at that loafer Paumelle's place every night, so as to stop my going home. It's some trick. Oh, you damned carrion!"
'Nobody's left outside the club but Jotham himself, and he "'That's all right, he interrupts, winkin' again. 'You be on hand next Tuesday night. You can't always tell, maybe somethin'll happen. "I was on hand, all right, and somethin' did happen, two somethin's, in fact.
And he filled me up, the dog; he did it, to stop my goin' home. I'm drunk!" And he would continue: "Tell me who it was, Melina, or somethin'll happen to you." After having waited again, he went on with the slow and obstinate logic of a drunkard: "He's been keeping me at that loafer Paumelle's place every night, so as to stop my going home. It's some trick. Oh, you damned carrion!"
"But when the Curlew arrives home?" queried the girl suddenly. "Hi-mighty, ye-as! I see that," he groaned. "Looks to me as though somethin'll have to happen to Abe Silt 'twixt Boston and this port. And you'll have to stop your father's mouth, Louise. I depend upon you to help me. Otherwise I shall be undone completely undone." "Goodness!" cried the girl, choked with laughter again.
"I believe that, too," answered Flea, "and if we hadn't been hungry we'd never have stealed, and we wouldn't have found Mr. and Miss Shellington. Yet she says it's wicked to steal." "So it be, Flea, and ye know it. All ye're tryin' to do now is not to believe about that Jesus. I bet somethin'll come that'll make ye believe it."
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