Kept saying that the time might come when I would need help, and things
like that."
"Charity," Val was putting her brushes straight, "I learned long ago
that nothing can be kept from Ricky. Sooner or later one spills out his
secrets."
"Except Rupert!" Ricky aired her old grievance.
"Perhaps Rupert," her brother agreed.
"Anyway, I do know where Jeems lives. Do you want me to get him for you,
Charity?"
"Certainly not, child! Do you think that I'd let you go into the swamp?
Why, even men who know something of woodcraft think twice before
attempting such a trip without a guide. Of course you're not going! I
think," she put her paint-stained hand to her head, "that I'm going to
have one of my sick headaches. I'll have to go home and lie down for an
hour or two."
"I'm sorry." Ricky's sympathy was quick and warm. "Is there anything I
can do?"
Charity shook her head with a rueful smile. "Time is the only medicine
for one of these. I'll see you later."
"Just the same," Ricky stood looking after her, "I'd like to know just
what is going on in the swamp right now."
"Why?" Val asked lightly.
"Because--well, just because," was her provoking answer. "Jeems was so
odd yesterday. He talked as if--as if there were some threat to us or
him. I wonder if there is something wrong." She frowned.
"Of course not!" her brother made prompt answer. "He's merely gone off
on one of those mysterious trips of his.
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