In late November he and Joe started for a trip down the coast in
the latter's boat. Thyra protested against it, but Chester
laughed at her alarm.
Thyra saw him go with a heart sick from fear. She hated the sea,
and was afraid of it at any time; but, most of all, in this
treacherous month, with its sudden, wild gales.
Chester had been fond of the sea from boyhood. She had always
tried to stifle this fondness and break off his associations with
the harbor fishermen, who liked to lure the high-spirited boy out
with them on fishing expeditions. But her power over him was
gone now.
After Chester's departure she was restless and miserable,
wandering from window to window to scan the dour, unsmiling sky.
Carl White, dropping in to pay a call, was alarmed when he heard
that Chester had gone with Joe, and had not tact enough to
conceal his alarm from Thyra.
"'T isn't safe this time of year," he said. "Folks expect no
better from that reckless, harum-scarum Joe Raymond. He'll drown
himself some day, there's nothing surer. This mad freak of
starting off down the shore in November is just of a piece with
his usual performances. But you shouldn't have let Chester go,
Thyra."
"I couldn't prevent him. Say what I could, he would go. He
laughed when I spoke of danger. Oh, he's changed from what he
was! I know who has wrought the change, and I hate her for it!"
Carl shrugged his fat shoulders.
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