worries
me when I see folks taking their trouble dry-eyed."

"How are they going to let their folks know, ma?" asked Rosetta Muriel,
her voice strangely subdued. The sudden tragedy had stirred her shallow
nature to its depths. Though a small mirror hung against the wall at a
convenient distance, she did not glance in its direction. For an hour
she had not smoothed her hair, nor pulled her ribbon bow into jaunty
erectness, nor indicated by any other of the familiar forms of
self-betrayal the all-absorbing importance of her personal appearance.
Her hands lay idle in her lap, and her face was pale, under her
dishevelled hair.

"Joe'll drive over to the station with a telegram the first thing in the
morning," Mrs. Cole replied. "We could telephone by going to Corney
Lee's, but I don't know why the poor souls shouldn't have one more night
of quiet sleep, for they can't take anything earlier than the morning
train anyway. And, besides, a telegram kind of brings its own warning,
but to go to the 'phone when the bell rings, and hear news like this,
must be 'most more than flesh and blood can bear."

Her gaze wandered to the boy standing by the door. "You'll go over with
the rest of the men in the morning, won't you, Jerry?" she asked. "I
guess there won't be many sleeping late to-morrow."

Jerry had refused a chair, but had stayed on, listening to such meagre
information as was to be had, the discovery of the overturned canoe, and
later of Peggy's hat, stained and water-soaked. As to the cause of the
catastrophe no one could be sure, though Mrs. Cole hazarded a guess.
"That little Dorothy was as full of caper as a colt, and anything as
ticklish as a canoe ain't safe for a child of that sort."

Looking at Jerry, the good woman was almost startled by the drawn misery
of the boy's white face. She had not credited him with such keen
sensibilities.

"You'd better go home and get to bed, Jerry," she said kindly. "The men
are going to start as soon as it's light enough, and you'd ought to get
a good sleep first."

Jerry slipped through the door without replying. Indeed he had hardly
spoken since he had uttered his threat against 'Lish Snooks. As he
stepped out into the night, he began to run, though his face was not set
toward home, and his confused thoughts recognized no especial
destination. But fast as he ran, the realization of what had happened
kept pace with him, and when at last he tripped over a tangle of vines,
and w