There was not much time for consideration. In two days Joe was off, bag and baggage, whistling, "The girl I left behind me."
And so the gay household thinned out. They missed Joe terribly. To be sure, vacation commenced after a while; and Kit and Charlie were in mischief continually, or in rags: Granny hardly knew which was worse.
They had some glowing letters from Joe, who didn't believe there was any thing finer in Europe than New York and the Hudson River. Capt. Burton was a "jolly old tar;" and nautical phrases were sprinkled about thick as blackberries.
Mr. Terry offered the place in the store to Hal, who consulted awhile with Granny.
"I think I could make as much money by working round, and raising chickens, and all that; and then I could go to school. I believe I should like it better; and there is so much that I want to learn!"
"But you know a master sight now, Hal," said Granny in admiration.
So the proposal was very kindly declined.
Charlie thought Fourth of July was "awful dull" this year. She lamented Joe loudly.
"If she had only been a boy!" said Hal regretfully.
The latter part of July, Joe came home for a flying visit. It seemed as if he had grown taller in this brief while. His curly hair had been cropped close; and he was brown as an Indian. Charlie made herself a perpetual interrogation-point; and Joe told her the most marvellous yarns that ever were invented. She soon learned every thing about the sloop, and wished that she could be a sailor, but finally comforted herself by thinking that she might marry a sea-captain.