"How about you, Mike?" laughed Old Captain.
"Aw, I wouldn't sew. That's girls' work."
The children had no sooner departed than Old Captain washed his hands and hurried into his coat. Feeling in his pocket to make sure that his money was there, he clambered up the steep bank, back of his queer house, to the road above. This was a pleasant road, because it curved obligingly to fit the shore line. The absence of a sidewalk did not distress Old Captain.
Half an hour later, Jeanne's friend, having reached the business section of the town, peered eagerly in at the shop windows. There seemed to be everything else in them except the articles that he wanted. Presently, choosing the shop that had the most windows, he started in, collided with a lady and a baby carriage and backed out again. He mopped his bald pink head several times with his faded red handkerchief before he felt sufficiently courageous to make a second attempt. Finally he got inside.
"Tarnation!" he breathed. "This ain't no place for a man—I'm the only one!"
A moment later, however, he caught sight of a male clerk and started for him almost on a run. He clutched him by the sleeve.
"Say," said Old Captain, "gimme a girl-sized thimble, a spool o' thread to fit, and a whole package o' needles."
"This young lady will attend to you," replied the man, heartlessly deserting him.
The smiling young lady was evidently waiting for her unusual customer to speak, so the Captain spoke.
"Will you kindly gimme a girl's-size needle, a spool o' thread, an' a package o' thimbles."