Old George chuckled rather provokingly, and seemed to be taken up with some abstruse calculation. "Well, I won't be against it, Master Aleck," he said, "unless—no—I'm not sure—" (the old man seemed to grow quite composed in his uncertainty), "I think—I may show you." And so saying he led the way into the work-shop.
I started with surprise—another little schooner-yacht was in course of construction, precisely similar to the one that had been lost.
"O George, how kind!"
"No; it's not a bit kind," responded George, "for I'm being paid for it. I meant to have done it without, but your papa, sir, has insisted upon it being his order, and I've been obliged to cave in."
It was to be a secret from Aleck, however.
How hard it was to keep that secret, when, every time there was a talk of Aleck's being able to get down to the Cove, I was on the point of letting out what he was to see there!
I did contrive to keep it, however; and when at last February was ushered in with a burst of warm weather that tempted all the little buds to unfold themselves with a perfectly reckless disregard of the cold that was sure to follow, and primroses and violets to start into blossom as though they could not lay the bright carpet for spring's advance too soon, Dr. Wilson decreed that nothing would do his little patient more good than a couple of hours of the freshest sea breezes, caught and partaken of on the spot, a mile off from shore;—which meant that Aleck had leave to go to the Cove once more, and out upon the sea for a sail.
Of course I had a whole holiday for the occasion; and I had satisfaction in observing that I was not the only one unable to settle down into quiet occupation. The carriage was nearly ready to drive my parents and Aleck down to the lodge, when I started off by way of the Zig-zag, to the Cove.
There was the new yacht, already decked from bow to stern with the tiny flags which I had been collecting for weeks past. All the sails were set, but a little anchor—also my addition to the furniture of the new vessel—kept her safely moored; and as she curtsied upon the water, every sail and flag reflected as in a mirror, I thought I had never seen anything so pretty.
Perhaps Aleck thought so too, for when he arrived a few minutes after, leaning on my father's arm, he seemed as if he could not speak, and had to sit down quite quietly in the boat whilst he drew the yacht close up to the side, and looked at it all over. Then he turned to my father, and said something about not being able to thank—and at this point broke down in a manner that was so singularly infectious, that no one was found able to break the silence at first.