"Remember it is only
a report,--or rather a conjecture,--which may be without any foundation
in fact. The captain may be alive and well at this moment."
A slight sound caused them all--Mr. and Mrs. Dinsmore and Elsie--to look
toward the door opening into the hall.
Max stood there with a face from which every vestige of color had fled,
his features quivering with emotion.
"What--what is it about, papa?" he asked hoarsely. "Oh, Grandpa Dinsmore,
Grandma Elsie, don't hide it from me! I must know!"
"Max, my boy, how came you here?" Mr. Dinsmore asked in a kindly pitying
tone, going to the lad and making him sit down, while he took a glass of
water from the table and held it to his lips.
Max put it aside. "My father?--what about my father?"
His tone was full of agonized inquiry, and Mr. Dinsmore saw the question
was not to be evaded.
"My poor fellow," he said, "I am truly sorry you should be distressed by
hearing what is as yet only a rumor: fears are reported that your
father's vessel is lost; but nothing is known certainly yet, and we must
hope for the best.
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