lasted even longer, but in the end Mr. Devon let out a long, slow sigh and nodded. "All right, if you're sure that's what you want. But don't forget I have to see the tax people and my lawyer, and go to the bank, and do some other things. That's why we're going to the city, not just to help this boy find a mother who may not even want to be found."
"Dad, thanks," Peter said. But then he became aware of the rain again. It was really heavy now, turning the roof into a drumhead, and it could easily last all night. The Blue Mountains were notorious for their fierce rains.
If it did keep up all night, what would the road to the capital be like in the morning? A big rain almost always caused landslides between Richmond Vale and the bridge over the Yallahs River at Ramble. Sometimes the road was blocked for days.
And what about Zackie if it rained like this all night?
Peter went out onto the veranda. He could judge a rain by the way the water ran off the roof, because the roof had no gutters. Standing at the veranda railing now was like being behind a waterfall, trying to look out through it. He shook his head and went back inside.
Miss Lorrie had come up from the kitchen and was setting the table for the evening meal. "Would you mind eating a bit early tonight, Mr. Devon?" she asked.
"Because of the rain, you mean?"
"Yes, suh. If me wait till the usual hour, the track down to Mango Gap will be a river. Me mightn't able to get home."
"You could stay here, you know," Mr. Devon said.
"Thank you. But me should go if me can. A rain like this might could cause Zackie to come to me for shelter."
"What about his father?"
"It don't likely him will go traipsing around in such weather, Mr. Devon. Mek we hope not, anyway." She paused when Peter's father did not reply. Then she said, "Don't you agree is so, suh?"
"Yes," Mr. Devon said after still another little hesitation. "Yes, I do, Lorrie."
"One thing worry me, though." The housekeeper frowned. "Rosetta Manyan did speak to me when she come for she pay. She did tell me Zackie's father is saying bad things about the boy and likely to beat him. It don't sound good at all."
Mr. Devon nodded. "Somehow, Lorrie, we've got to convince Corporal Buckley that the dangerous one is the father, not the son. Even if Zackie is the one doing the stealing."
"Mr. Devon, is you saying you believe Zackie is the tief?"
"He could be, Lorrie. I don't want to think so, but we can't look at this through blindfolds just because we want to help the boy."
"Yes, suh," the housekeeper said. "And me can put supper on the table now?"
"Yes, Lorrie. Please do."
After dinner Peter watched Miss Lorrie hurrying down the path, with one hand holding Daily Gleaner pages on her head to protect her hair and the other trying to keep the gusts of wind from blowing her umbrella inside out.
The water rushed down the path with her, boiling about her ankles.
Unless the rain quit soon, there would be no trip to Kingston the next day, Peter thought glumly. Still, his father suggested they go to bed early, in case it did stop and they could make the trip.
"Let me know when you're ready," Mr. Devon said, "and I'll shut off the power plant." He had a remote control in his bedroom.
With his pajamas on, Peter called out and got an answer, and was in bed when the plant's chugging slowed to a stop. The fact that he could hear it surprised him. Getting up, he opened his door onto the veranda and saw that the water cascading off the roof was not so heavy now. Maybe they would get to Kingston, after all, he thought as he climbed back into bed and finally dozed off to sleep.
What time it was when he suddenly opened his eyes, he had no idea. He sat up in bed with the feeling that a strange sound had awakened him. There was no light in the room; there never was on nights when clouds hid the moon and stars. Now he definitely did hear a sound. Something or someone was tapping on the door that led onto the veranda.
Peter always kept
"Dad, thanks," Peter said. But then he became aware of the rain again. It was really heavy now, turning the roof into a drumhead, and it could easily last all night. The Blue Mountains were notorious for their fierce rains.
If it did keep up all night, what would the road to the capital be like in the morning? A big rain almost always caused landslides between Richmond Vale and the bridge over the Yallahs River at Ramble. Sometimes the road was blocked for days.
And what about Zackie if it rained like this all night?
Peter went out onto the veranda. He could judge a rain by the way the water ran off the roof, because the roof had no gutters. Standing at the veranda railing now was like being behind a waterfall, trying to look out through it. He shook his head and went back inside.
Miss Lorrie had come up from the kitchen and was setting the table for the evening meal. "Would you mind eating a bit early tonight, Mr. Devon?" she asked.
"Because of the rain, you mean?"
"Yes, suh. If me wait till the usual hour, the track down to Mango Gap will be a river. Me mightn't able to get home."
"You could stay here, you know," Mr. Devon said.
"Thank you. But me should go if me can. A rain like this might could cause Zackie to come to me for shelter."
"What about his father?"
"It don't likely him will go traipsing around in such weather, Mr. Devon. Mek we hope not, anyway." She paused when Peter's father did not reply. Then she said, "Don't you agree is so, suh?"
"Yes," Mr. Devon said after still another little hesitation. "Yes, I do, Lorrie."
"One thing worry me, though." The housekeeper frowned. "Rosetta Manyan did speak to me when she come for she pay. She did tell me Zackie's father is saying bad things about the boy and likely to beat him. It don't sound good at all."
Mr. Devon nodded. "Somehow, Lorrie, we've got to convince Corporal Buckley that the dangerous one is the father, not the son. Even if Zackie is the one doing the stealing."
"Mr. Devon, is you saying you believe Zackie is the tief?"
"He could be, Lorrie. I don't want to think so, but we can't look at this through blindfolds just because we want to help the boy."
"Yes, suh," the housekeeper said. "And me can put supper on the table now?"
"Yes, Lorrie. Please do."
After dinner Peter watched Miss Lorrie hurrying down the path, with one hand holding Daily Gleaner pages on her head to protect her hair and the other trying to keep the gusts of wind from blowing her umbrella inside out.
The water rushed down the path with her, boiling about her ankles.
Unless the rain quit soon, there would be no trip to Kingston the next day, Peter thought glumly. Still, his father suggested they go to bed early, in case it did stop and they could make the trip.
"Let me know when you're ready," Mr. Devon said, "and I'll shut off the power plant." He had a remote control in his bedroom.
With his pajamas on, Peter called out and got an answer, and was in bed when the plant's chugging slowed to a stop. The fact that he could hear it surprised him. Getting up, he opened his door onto the veranda and saw that the water cascading off the roof was not so heavy now. Maybe they would get to Kingston, after all, he thought as he climbed back into bed and finally dozed off to sleep.
What time it was when he suddenly opened his eyes, he had no idea. He sat up in bed with the feeling that a strange sound had awakened him. There was no light in the room; there never was on nights when clouds hid the moon and stars. Now he definitely did hear a sound. Something or someone was tapping on the door that led onto the veranda.
Peter always kept
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