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CHAPTER XIII ERIE OF THE LIGHT-HOUSE Billy nodded. "Why, yes," Frank answered, somewhat puzzled. "He lived next farm to me.".
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Maurice stood up. "Well, as there's no need to keep watch here, maybe I best trail along home. Anse'll be gettin' tired waitin' fer me." Lucy walked on to High Street, into which she turned, and from nearly every person that she passed, she received a respectful salute or a ducking curtsy; and for all she had a kindly word and a smile as lovely as a fine May day, and sometimes she would stop and speak to a child, on which occasions she generally took a penny from her pocket. "Naw, why should there be? That's what you're supposed to do, if you get the chance—shoot 'em, an' get the reward." Billy had heard and understood. When his dad sent him one of those "up and away" signals he never questioned its significance. He didn't like listening in secret, but surely he reasoned, a boy had a right to know just what was coming to him. And he knew what was coming to him, all right—a caning from the supple hickory ramrod—maybe!.
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