persuade me to take her back to Heron Head and there "live happily ever after." But, apparently, she was now resigned to making the inevitable voyage home. She even talked about things she'd do right away in the Belgravia house, and it was one of the most pleasant conversations we'd ever had.
About nine, Mrs. Crowe stuck her head down the steps and suggested we get some sleep. Tee would have to be awakened at five, and of course, I had to be on Roanoke Dock, with my seabag, at eight.
Having been pampered for more than an hour, Boo was sufficiently sleepy now, so off we went to our respective rooms, the day having ended successfully for all.
However, a few minutes after 5 A.M ., Mrs. Crowe entered my room to awaken me with shattering news. "She's gone!"
"Oh, no," I said. Another of W. L. Appleton's surprises.
"I went in to wake her up, and she's nowhere in the house. Neither is that dog."
I couldn't believe it. Gone to where? It didn't seem likely that Calderham and the police could have located her and spirited her off. Had she run off again, and why?
The answer soon emerged. We found two notes on the dining-room table. One was to Mrs. Crowe:
Dear Mrs. Crowe:
I can never thank you enough for allowing us to stay in your lovely home. And please extend my gratitude to the railroad men for their sound advice. I am on my way.
Sincerely,
Wendy Lynn Appleton
"Such a sweet girl," said Mrs. Crowe.
"Yes," I replied, but uncertainly.
Then I opened my note:
Dearest Ben:
I could not bear the thought of us saying good-bye so decided to go to the ferry alone with Boo. Please don't follow us. I prefer to think of the
good times, not the sad times. Do write to me, and I shall write to you.
Love,
Teetoncey
Despite myself, I had a lump in my throat. I then agreed, "
A
very sweet girl."
Since she was already up, Mrs. Crowe decided to fix breakfast, and I ate, with not much appetite, at about a quarter to six. My thoughts were of Tee. Then, about six, I went up to the fourth-floor landing to watch the NYP&N ferry pull away. It was too far off and dawn-lit to make out the girl with the daisy hair and the gold-coated dog, but I waved watery-eyed, as the vessel backed into the channel, blew its sorrowful whistle, and began to step out for Cape Charles.
Though it should have been a happy morning in my life, I felt somewhat depressed as I packed everything into my seabag and began the wait until seven-thirty to go to Hudgins & Hurst to meet the shipping master. I fiddled around for a while, went out on the front porch and rocked for a while, said good-bye to all the railroaders as they left for the day, and watched the big clock in the parlor.
Finally, just before seven-thirty, I went in to Mrs. Crowe to bid her farewell, wonderful woman that she was. She softened a bit and told me to take care of myself, be certain to come back to her establishment, then happened to ask the name of the shipping master.
"Parley Bakerby," I said.
Her face got as red as her hair. "Do you know who he is?"
"No," I admitted.
"He owns the Tidewater Saloon. He's a scoundrel. Offers the men loans of ten dollars when he signs them on, just so they'll come back to his den of sin when they pay off at voyage's end."
"I didn't know that," I said. "I won't ask for a loan."
"You be careful," Mrs. Crowe said.
I promised I would, shook her hand, and departed.
10
O N ARRIVAL , there was already a group of scruffy men hanging around Roanoke Dock, and I stayed strictly away from them, trying to make as if I were just sightseeing around. Several sailors appeared to be tipsy, even at this early hour; several others appeared to have the shakes, which I had myself but not from any night in the saloons.
In about ten minutes, Parley Bakerby came puffing along, a lot of official papers in his hands. He was a pink-faced, potbellied man with silky hair and tiny red veins on his nose and cheeks, looking just like a politician and similar destructive persons. He went
About nine, Mrs. Crowe stuck her head down the steps and suggested we get some sleep. Tee would have to be awakened at five, and of course, I had to be on Roanoke Dock, with my seabag, at eight.
Having been pampered for more than an hour, Boo was sufficiently sleepy now, so off we went to our respective rooms, the day having ended successfully for all.
However, a few minutes after 5 A.M ., Mrs. Crowe entered my room to awaken me with shattering news. "She's gone!"
"Oh, no," I said. Another of W. L. Appleton's surprises.
"I went in to wake her up, and she's nowhere in the house. Neither is that dog."
I couldn't believe it. Gone to where? It didn't seem likely that Calderham and the police could have located her and spirited her off. Had she run off again, and why?
The answer soon emerged. We found two notes on the dining-room table. One was to Mrs. Crowe:
Dear Mrs. Crowe:
I can never thank you enough for allowing us to stay in your lovely home. And please extend my gratitude to the railroad men for their sound advice. I am on my way.
Sincerely,
Wendy Lynn Appleton
"Such a sweet girl," said Mrs. Crowe.
"Yes," I replied, but uncertainly.
Then I opened my note:
Dearest Ben:
I could not bear the thought of us saying good-bye so decided to go to the ferry alone with Boo. Please don't follow us. I prefer to think of the
good times, not the sad times. Do write to me, and I shall write to you.
Love,
Teetoncey
Despite myself, I had a lump in my throat. I then agreed, "
A
very sweet girl."
Since she was already up, Mrs. Crowe decided to fix breakfast, and I ate, with not much appetite, at about a quarter to six. My thoughts were of Tee. Then, about six, I went up to the fourth-floor landing to watch the NYP&N ferry pull away. It was too far off and dawn-lit to make out the girl with the daisy hair and the gold-coated dog, but I waved watery-eyed, as the vessel backed into the channel, blew its sorrowful whistle, and began to step out for Cape Charles.
Though it should have been a happy morning in my life, I felt somewhat depressed as I packed everything into my seabag and began the wait until seven-thirty to go to Hudgins & Hurst to meet the shipping master. I fiddled around for a while, went out on the front porch and rocked for a while, said good-bye to all the railroaders as they left for the day, and watched the big clock in the parlor.
Finally, just before seven-thirty, I went in to Mrs. Crowe to bid her farewell, wonderful woman that she was. She softened a bit and told me to take care of myself, be certain to come back to her establishment, then happened to ask the name of the shipping master.
"Parley Bakerby," I said.
Her face got as red as her hair. "Do you know who he is?"
"No," I admitted.
"He owns the Tidewater Saloon. He's a scoundrel. Offers the men loans of ten dollars when he signs them on, just so they'll come back to his den of sin when they pay off at voyage's end."
"I didn't know that," I said. "I won't ask for a loan."
"You be careful," Mrs. Crowe said.
I promised I would, shook her hand, and departed.
10
O N ARRIVAL , there was already a group of scruffy men hanging around Roanoke Dock, and I stayed strictly away from them, trying to make as if I were just sightseeing around. Several sailors appeared to be tipsy, even at this early hour; several others appeared to have the shakes, which I had myself but not from any night in the saloons.
In about ten minutes, Parley Bakerby came puffing along, a lot of official papers in his hands. He was a pink-faced, potbellied man with silky hair and tiny red veins on his nose and cheeks, looking just like a politician and similar destructive persons. He went
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