I’ll tell you what … if it’s okay for you to go, whistle three times, and I’ll do the same.”

“Okay, Alec. Well, here’s hopin’ …” Henry turned and headed for the front door. Alec saw him stop, look down at his shoes that were caked with mud, and then go around to the back door. Grinning, Alec proceeded toward the gate and home.

As he shut the gate, he glanced nervously at his watch. It was just about time for his father to arrive home, and tonight he’d have to know whether he could go to Arabia or not. Gosh, he hoped nothing would go wrong!

As Alec crossed the street, he saw the tall figure of his father walking down from the corner bus station. He yelled and ran to meet him.

Smiling, his father removed his brown, battered hat and wiped the perspiration off his forehead. “I can hardly walk in this heat, and here you’re running around like mad … it’s good to be young!” He put an arm around Alec’s shoulders and together they walked toward the house.

They were climbing the steps when Alec decided that no more time should be wasted in finding out what he had to know. “Dad,” he said hesitatingly, “could I talk to you and Mother now, before dinner?”

Mr. Ramsay could tell, from the serious tone of the young voice, what his son wanted to discuss. “Sure, Alec, let’s go in and get your mother out of the kitchen … much too hot a night to spend in there anyway.”

Alec waited in the living room while his father went into the kitchen. Pretending to read the evening paper, Alec sat down in a chair. It wouldn’t be long now. He’d know soon, one way or the other.…

His mother entered the room, wiping her hands on a short apron. Alec didn’t like the stern look on his father’s face. Then he smiled as he heard his father say, “Slaving over a hot stove, Alec, that’s where I found her, just as I thought.” He grasped his wife by the waist and they turned to Alec.

“We heard from Mr. Volence today and he’s going,” Alec began. “Remember, you told me to tell you when we heard from him.” He stopped, looked out the window, and then back at his parents. “He’s going next week and still wants me to go along.”

“Henry going?” his father asked quietly, his arm still around Alec’s mother.

“Think so, Dad. Sure, I’m sure he is. He told me this afternoon that he was.”

His mother wasn’t convinced. “Mrs. Dailey didn’t mention it to me, and I saw her this afternoon,” she said.

“Gosh, Mom,” Alec almost shouted, “you didn’t say anything to her, did you?”

“Shouldn’t I?” his mother asked.

“Gee, no, Mom, Henry hasn’t even …” Suddenly the still night was pierced by a sharp whistle. Alec turned towards the open window. The whistle was repeated twice more. “He’s going, Mom,” he shouted. “Yes, Henry’s going!”

Mr. Ramsay smiled. “Prearranged signals, eh?” he asked. He turned to his wife, then back to Alec.