this afternoon, or to-morrow morning anyway, I want to come down to
Kerrigan's and call on you."
"Wut about?" the boy demanded with an instant suspiciousness which was
rather pathetic.
"About you, Tommy. I have got a little plan in my head, and there isn't
any time to talk about it now. What would you say to having a home with
some nice people I know in another city--in New York?"
A sudden dumbness seized Tommy. His head slowly lowered and he did not
answer. Around the deck-house from the port-side hurried McTosh, his arm
embracing a bundle of papers, his brow beady with the honest toil of
speed wrung out of country paths.
"Ah, steward! You made good time. Ask Mr. Maginnis if he won't come on
deck when he is at leisure. Thomas, you're for the shore, aren't you?
Forward, there!"
He got up and stood by the side of grave little Tommy Orrick, who was
staring silently down at the white deck.
"Down in New York, Tommy, I know a nice woman who has a home and no boys
at all to put in it. A long time ago she used to be the nurse of a boy I
knew, but he grew up; and now her husband's dead and she's all alone.
And here in Hunston is a boy with no home to put himself in. That's you,
Tommy, and I--but here's your boat. I'll come to see you to-morrow at
Kerrigan's--sure, and we'll talk it all over. Good-bye. And remember
that you and I are just the best friends going."
He held out his hand, to shake, but Tommy, in an excess of stage-fright
at the unwonted ceremonial, nimbly turned his back; and the next instant
he slipped over the rail like an acrobat and dropped into the waiting
dinghy. Safely there, he glanced tentatively upward; but seeing that the
tall man above was still standing at the rail and was smiling down upon
him, looked tactfully away again. And Varney heard him say to the
oarsman in a snappy, impatient voice: "Pull for all you know, dere! I
got bizness dat won't keep."
Varney sat down with the bundle of papers. Within the minute, Peter
appeared, replete but characteristically alert.
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