At dinnertime none of us felt like eating, but at least we could count on the return of Zebediah, who had eaten his sandwich and left again while we were at Brookman’s and so was still in the dark. Sina had one hard-and-fast rule: we might wander wherever we liked during the day, but mealtimes must be observed. It was a way, as much as anything, of checking in so that she knew we hadn’t drowned ourselves or been eaten by bears. So we knew Zebediah would be in for dinner soon and sure enough, just as Gladys was about to put it on the table we saw him coming from the woods. Then, to our relief, from the other direction, we spied Old Tom and Wilfred bringing the boat in. We let Zebediah come in and wash up without telling him anything, waiting for Wilfred. When everyone was together and had sat down at the table we told all.

Wilfred turned white and said nothing.

Zebediah, however, convulsed those of us who had been white-knuckling it through the day by standing on his chair, punching a fist to the heavens, and calling out gleefully, “He did it!”

Into the Night

INTO THE NIGHT

“Zebediah, sit down,” said Sina with great restraint, I thought. She looked at Winifred and Wilfred’s drawn faces and continued, “Now, I know this looks bad…” And then could clearly think of no good way to end her sentence, so she said, “Would anyone like a little charred soup?”

Gladys had brought in the soup tureen, from which came the distinct smell of burnt tomatoes.

“What are we going to do?” asked Wilfred calmly but looking owl-like and mildly panicked behind his glasses.

“We are going to eat soup,” said Sina. “It will do no good to starve to death. Now, I think it best that, should anyone decide to ask us, that we know nothing about the missing plane. Not that we do.”

“Zebediah, you are to keep your lips zipped,” said Winifred. “They are talking about shooting to kill.”

“What are we going to do?” asked Wilfred again.

“You’re going to eat dinner and go to bed,” said Old Tom. “There is nothing more you can do.”

“Yes,” said Sina, getting all falsely cheerful. “That’s much the best thing. We are assuming that Zebediah actually knows something—”

“I do,” interrupted Zebediah.

“You shut up,” said Winifred rudely.

“I will not,” said Zebediah.

“You both shut up,” said Wilfred with unusual heat. “And let Sina speak.”

“Thank you, Wilfred,” said Sina. “What I was going to say was that, after all, we don’t know that your father has done anything, what Zebediah thinks he knows aside. It could still all be talk. I always find the best way to deal with anything is with a clear head, and you won’t have a clear head worrying all night. Try to have cheerful thoughts and get some rest.”