Captain Cy did not reply to the request for the box. It is doubtful if he even heard it. Mrs. Oliver's astonishing letter had, as he afterwards said, left him "high and dry with no tug in sight." Mary Thomas was dead, and her daughter, her DAUGHTER! of whose very existence he had been ignorant, had suddenly appeared from nowhere and been dropped at his door, like an out-of-season May basket, accompanied by the modest suggestion that he assume responsibility for her thereafter. No wonder the captain wiped his forehead in utter bewilderment.
"Don't you think you'd better send for the box?" repeated the child, shivering a little under the big coat.
"Hey? What say? Never mind, though. Just keep quiet for a spell, won't you. I want to let this soak in. By the big dipper! Of all the solid brass cheek that ever I run across, this beats the whole cargo! And Betsy Howes never hinted! 'Probably you would be glad to take--' Be GLAD! Why, blast their miserable, stingy-- What do they take me for? I'LL show 'em! Indiana ain't so fur that Ican't-- Hey? Did you say anything, sis?"
The girl had shivered again. "No, sir," she replied. "It was my teeth, I guess. They kind of rattled.""What? You ain't cold, are you? With all that round you and in front of that fire?""No, sir, I guess not. Only my back feels sort of funny, as if somebody kept dropping icicles down it. Those bushes and vines were so wet that when I tumbled down 'twas most like being in a pond.""Sho! sho! That won't do. Can't have you laid up on my hands.
That would be worse than-- Humph! Tut, tut! Somethin' ought to be done, and I'm blessed if I know what. And not a woman round the place--not even that Debby. Say, look here, what's your name--er--Emmie, hadn't I better get the doctor?"
The child looked frightened.
"Why?" she cried, her big eyes opening. "I'm not sick, am I?""Sick? No, no! Course not, course not. What would you want to be sick for? But you ought to get warm and dry right off, I s'pose, and your duds are all up to the depot. Say, what does--what did your ma used to do when you felt--er--them icicles and things?""She changed my clothes and rubbed me. And, if I was VERY wet she put me to bed sometimes.""Bed? Sure! why, yes, indeed. Bed's a good place to keep off icicles. There's my bedroom right in there. You could turn in just as well as not. Bunk ain't made yet, but I can shake it up in no time. Say--er--er--you can undress yourself, can't you?""Oh, yes, sir! Course I can! I'm most eight.""Sure you are! Don't act a mite babyish. All right, you set still till I shake up that bunk."He entered the chamber, his own, opening from the sitting room, and proceeded, literally, to "shake up" the bed. It was not a lengthy process and, when it was completed, he returned to find his visitor already divested of the coat and standing before the stove.
"I guess perhaps you'll have to help undo me behind," observed the young lady. "This is my best dress and I can't reach the buttons in the middle of the back."Captain Cy scratched his head. Then he clumsily unbuttoned the wet waist, glancing rather sheepishly at the window to see if anyone was coming.
"So this is your best dress, hey?" he asked, to cover his confusion.
It was obviously not very new, for it was neatly mended in one or two places.
"Yes, sir."
"So. Where'd you buy it--up to Concord?"
"No, sir. Mamma made it, a year ago."
There was a little choke in the child's voice. The captain was mightily taken back.
"Hum! Yes, yes," he muttered hurriedly. "Well, there you are.
Now you can get along, can't you?"
"Yes, sir. Shall I go in that room?"
"Trot right in. You might--er--maybe you might sing out when you're tucked up. I--I'll want to know if you're got bedclothes enough."Emily disappeared in the bedroom. The door closed. Captain Cy, his hands in his pockets, walked up and down the length of the sitting room. The expression on his face was a queer one.
"I haven't got any nightgown," called a voice from the other room.
The captain gasped.
"Good land! so you ain't," he exclaimed. "What in the world--Humph! I wonder--"
He went to the lower drawer of a tall "highboy" and, from the tumbled mass of apparel therein took one of his own night garments.
"Here's one," he said, coming back with it in his hand. "I guess you'll have to make this do for now. It'll fit you enough for three times to once, but it's all I've got."A small hand reached 'round the edge of the door and the nightshirt disappeared. Captain Cy chuckled and resumed his pacing.
"I'm tucked up," called Miss Thomas. The captain entered and found her in bed, the patchwork points and diamonds of the "Rising Sun"quilt covering her to the chin and her head denting the uppermost of the two big pillows. Captain Cy liked to "sleep high.""Got enough over you?" he asked.
"Yes, sir, thank you."
"That's good. I'll take your togs out and dry 'em in the kitchen.
Don't be scared; I'll be right back."
In the kitchen he sorted the wet garments and hung them about the cook stove. It was a strange occupation for him and he shook his head whimsically as he completed it. Then he took a flat iron, one of Mrs. Beasley's purchases, from the shelf in the closet and put it in the oven to heat. Soon afterwards he returned to the bedroom, bearing the iron wrapped in a dish towel.
