Albert, at his desk in the outer office, was waiting rebelliously to be called before his grandfather and upbraided.And when so called he was in a mood to speak his mind.He would say a few things, no matter what happened in consequence.But he had no chance to say them.Captain Zelotes did not mention the Calvin affair to him, either that day or afterward.Albert waited and waited, expecting trouble, but the trouble, so far as his grandfather was concerned, did not materialize.He could not understand it.
But if in that office there was silence concerning the unusual delivery of the lumber for the Calvin porch, outside there was talk enough and to spare.Each Welfare Worker talked when she reached home and the story spread.Small boys shouted after Albert when he walked down the main street, demanding to know how Ves Young's cart was smellin' these days.When he entered the post office some one in the crowd was almost sure to hum, "Here's to the good old whiskey, drink her down." On the train on the way to the picnic, girls and young fellows had slyly nagged him about it.The affair and its consequence were the principal causes of his mood that day;this particular "Portygee streak" was due to it.
The path along the edge of the high bluff entered a grove of scraggy pitch pines about a mile from the lighthouse and the picnic ground.Albert stalked gloomily through the shadows of the little grove and emerged on the other side.There he saw another person ahead of him on the path.This other person was a girl.He recognized her even at this distance.She was Helen Kendall, She and he had not been quite as friendly of late.Not that there was any unfriendliness between them, but she was teaching in the primary school and, as her father had not been well, spent most of her evenings at home.During the early part of the winter he had called occasionally but, somehow, it had seemed to him that she was not quite as cordial, or as interested in his society and conversation as she used to be.It was but a slight indifference on her part, perhaps, but Albert Speranza was not accustomed to indifference on the part of his feminine acquaintances.So he did not call again.He had seen her at the picnic ground and they had spoken, but not at any length.
And he did not care to speak with her now.He had left the pavilion because of his desire to be alone, and that desire still persisted.However, she was some little distance ahead of him and he waited in the edge of the grove until she should go over the crest of the little hill at the next point.
But she did not go over the crest.Instead, when she reached it, she walked to the very edge of the bluff and stood there looking off at the ocean.The sea breeze ruffled her hair and blew her skirts about her and she made a pretty picture.But to Albert it seemed that she was standing much too near the edge.She could not see it, of course, but from where he stood he could see that the bank at that point was much undercut by the winter rains and winds, and although the sod looked firm enough from above, in reality there was little to support it.Her standing there made him a trifle uneasy and he had a mind to shout and warn her.He hesitated, however, and as he watched she stepped back of her own accord.He turned, re-entered the grove and started to walk back to the pavilion.
He had scarcely done so when he heard a short scream followed by a thump and a rumbling, rattling sound.He turned like a flash, his heart pounding violently.
The bluff edge was untenanted.A semi-circular section of the sod where Helen had stood was missing.From the torn opening where it had been rose a yellow cloud of dust.
