The Foot of Time: A Novel of Australia and the South Seas: (1933)

172 THE FOOT OF TIME
"Run her Daddy down, indeed!" Florence
mimicked. "As if I would think of such a wickedness!
Why, he's the—"
"Yes. Well never mind about Daddy, Auntie
Floss. You asked me whether I had told him.
No. You see, I can't tell Dad exactly everything,
can I? And
"No, you certainly cannot, my dear, and if you
will allow me to say so--"
"I know what you're doing, Aunt. You are just
talking about Dad to get me off thinking about
Bruce. I know you."
Which, as it happened, was precisely what Miss
Tooth was doing. Trying to divert Edith's mind
from this terrible worry about the boy till Florence
knew the first word what to do, what to
say, for Florence regarded the matter most gravely,
and was alarmed beyond measure. It would have
worried her not an iota had Bruce gone down in
hundreds of fathoms in all the cyclones which ever
blew, but this was another matter.
"What does Mrs. Swinton say about it all,
darling?"
"She's most frightfully worried, Auntie, and in a
dreadful way, but takes it so terribly calmly. I
think she feels it the more for bottling up her feelings
in the way she does."
"Tut, tut, child! What does Mrs. Swinton say
about it? Heaven love you, child! Of course the
poor lady is upset; so'm I. At least," she corrected
herself quickly, "I would be if I did not know the
THE FOOT OF TIME 173
boy was all right. But what does Mrs. Swinton
say?"
"Auntie, she's frightened of something—something
awful. She begins to wonder whether Bruce
could possibly be like his father. Isn't it all frightful?
Oh, I'm so unhappy!" The girl broke
down, and wise old Florence Tooth did nothing to
hinder the consolation of tears. "Didn't she know.
Let the darling cry and then she'd feel all
the better for it. It's a pity you can't cry yourself,
Florence," she told herself, "but you can't do it,
so it's no use trying."
Presently, more composed again, Edith asked:
"What can we do, Aunt Floss? It's so awful being
impotent. Bruce may be ill or hurt, or something
equally dreadful."
"Are you sure you know where Mr. Swinton and
Pinkerton were bound for, my dear?"
"Oh, yes," Edith told her. "Bruce told me all
their plans. They were going as far as the trading
port of Fungi in the TV ontangee. Then they intended
hiring a launch from an official in the
French Consular service who was well known to
Mr. Pinker ton—"
"Had that young—young Brian Pinkerton visited
there before, my dear?"
"Oh, yes. He knew the part particularly well."
"Umph!" snapped Florence Tooth. Then, "Go
on, child."
"Then they were going to cross to another island
not many miles away called Tuamonti, and---"
"Wait a moment, dear. Do I understand that