"No," said the boy, "I can't." He was all angel now, for he
was being visited for wrong.

The little girl's lips trembled and got white.

"I'm awful sorry, Margaret."

"What'll we do, 'Laddin?"

"Just sit still, 'n' whatever happens I'll take care of you,
Margaret."

They were passing the shipyards with a steady sweep, but the
offices were closed, the men at home, and no one saw the
distressed expedition. The last yard of all was conspicuous by
a three-master, finished, painted, sparred, ready for the
fragrant bottle to be cracked on her nose, and the long
shivering slide into the river. Then came a fine square,
chimneyed house with sherry-glass-shaped elm-trees about it.
The boy shouted to a man contorted under a load of wood. The
man looked up and grinned vacantly, for he was not even
half-witted. And they were swept on. Presently woods drew
between them and the last traces of habitation,--gorgeous woods
with intense splashes of color, standing upon clean rocks that
emphatically divided the water from the land,--and they
scurried into a region as untroubled by man as was Eden on the
first morning. The little boy was not afraid, but so sorry and
ashamed that he could have cried. The little girl, however, was
even deeper down the throat of remorse, for she had sinned