"Well?" she said, defiantly. "Well?" She looked at us, and what was in
her eyes made chills go down me. Triumph was what was in her eyes. Then
suddenly she flung her arms around my aunt and kissed her. "Oh," she
cried, "kiss me, Auntie, kiss me! He's not dead, my Johnny--not dead!"
"Go up to your room, Deolda," said my aunt, "and rest." She patted her
shoulder just as though she were a little girl, for all the thoughts
that were crawling around our hearts.
When later in the day Conboy came, "Where's Deolda?" he asked.
"I'll call her," I said. But Deolda wasn't anywhere; not a sign of her.
She'd vanished. Conboy and Aunt Josephine looked at each other.
"She's gone to him," said Conboy.
My aunt leaned toward him and whispered, "_What do you think?_"
"Hush!" said Conboy, sternly. "_Don't think_, Josephine! _Don't speak.
Don't even dream!_ Don't let your mind stray. You know that crew
couldn't have made port in fair weather together. The strongest man
won--that's all!"
"Then you believe--" my aunt began.
"Hush!" he said, and put his hand over her mouth. Then he laughed
suddenly and slapped his thigh. "God!" he said. "Deolda--Can you beat
her? She's got luck--by gorry, she's got luck! You got a pen and ink?"
"What for?" said my aunt.
"I want to write out a weddin' present for Deolda," he said.
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