The Come Back. Wells Carolyn
course," the girl said frankly. "I only wanted him to go away, free, and then if he still wanted me when he came back – and now he'll never come back!" she gave way to silent weeping.
"His parents say he has come back," offered Blair, more by way of diversion than comfort.
Carly looked up quickly. "They told you that?" she said.
"Yes, told me pretty much all about their 'messages.' Foolishness, of course, but it seems to comfort them."
"It doesn't comfort me," and Carly sighed. "I don't believe in it, you see." And she looked at him with a curious glance.
"No; I don't either. But the old people do, and if it helps them bear their grief, – why – "
"Yes; I understand. How – how much did they tell you?"
"All, I suppose. They said some medium, – well, not a professional, but some friend of theirs, – helped them to get messages 'through,' as they call it."
"Didn't they tell you who the friend was?"
"No; but they weren't mysterious about it. They simply didn't say. I believe Julie doesn't like to have them try it, – the Ouija, I mean."
"Oh, she feels as I do, – as anybody must, – if they like it let them have it. She went to the lectures."
"Everybody did, it seems."
"Yes, the whole town went crazy on the subject. Is yet, but not quite to the same extent."
"The war brought it all about, of course. After a short time, the fad will die out."
"Yes, if it is a fad. But, – do you never think there may be a grain of truth in it all?"
"I haven't seen the grain yet, but I'm open to conviction."
"Oh, well, I've no intention of trying to convince you. Tell me all about your trip, – tell me all the queer experiences you had, and everything you can think of. And tell me lots about Peter."
Blair did her bidding. He described their life in the Labrador, told of their exploits and discomforts and also of the glorious outdoor days and nights that were so enjoyed by them all.
"I'd love it!" Carly declared. "Oh, not all the tramping and portaging, but the camp life."
"Better try it nearer home. The Adirondacks would give you enough excitement. There's no use braving that cold up there, and those fierce storms."
"If it hadn't stormed, Peter wouldn't have been lost, would he?"
"Probably not. You see, we've mulled it over and over. He must have fallen and hurt himself in some way, or he would have followed us somehow."
"He would have called out."
"That's the point. The wind was in our faces, it was a villainous blast, and nothing any one said could be heard by one in front of him, unless they were near each other. If Peter had shouted, the wind would have carried his voice back and away from us. That is undoubtedly what happened."
"Don't you think the guide was greatly to blame?"
"No; he had no reason to look back at us, as if we were sheep. We had always followed his trail, there was to all appearances no difference between this trip and any other. We had breasted equally severe storms, and come home, laughing. I feel sure Peter met with an accident, – or, it may be, – probably enough, – his strength suddenly gave out, or even his heart went bad, or something like that. Perhaps he couldn't shout. I blame myself, of course, for not looking back sooner, but I do honestly feel that it was not a culpable omission."
"Of course it wasn't! I see just how it was. Great, big, stalwart Peter was not a baby to be looked after by you others. But – oh, Gilbert, – it's so dreadful to think of his dying there alone! Perhaps he – he didn't die right away – "
"Don't, Carly! Try not to think about that. Think only that old Peter Boots is gone, – that he lived a fine, clean, splendid life, and met his end bravely, whatever happened. And, too, I'm told that he couldn't have suffered much. He must have lost consciousness very quickly."
"Yes, – I suppose so. But – oh, Gilbert, I didn't know how much I cared, until – until I lost him."
"I know, dear, – it's awful hard for you. Come on, get your hat and let's go over to Julie's. I haven't seen her yet, and I promised to call to-day."
They went to the Cranes', and found Shelby already there.
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