Lie still. Come, let us think of
the In-Place."
Priscilla slipped her arm from under the dark head, and took the
wandering hands in hers. Her random words had power to hold and chain
the weak mind.
"I'm going to tell you--where he is--but we'll go back to the In-Place. I
want to tell you there, and--he'll come and find you. I'd like to do you
both a good turn--for what you've done for me."
Then, after a pause and a gasping breath:
"It's growing dark, but there's Dreamer's Rock and Bleak Head!"
"And, Jerry-Jo," whispered Priscilla, "there's Lone Tree Island,
don't you see? Your boat is coming around into the Channel. Please tell
me--where he is, Jerry-Jo----"
Priscilla realized he was going fast, and the secret suddenly gripped her
with strange power. She must have it; she must know!
"Please, Jerry-Jo, tell me where he is. I have wanted so to know! Listen!
Can you not hear--the dear old sounds, the pattering of the soft little
waves that the ice has let go free? There's the farm, the woods----" But
Jerry-Jo was struggling to rise; his black eyes wide and straining, his
thin arms outstretched.
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