“Yes, at first,” rejoined Hiram imperturbably, “but you can get used to anything. It used to be Captain Salter and the Gentle Annie; but in future it’s goin’ to be Captain Salter and the Clever Betsy; and after a while that’s goin’ to seem just as natural as the other.”
The speaker continued to rest his gaze on the narrow reddened countenance, which looked back furiously.
Mrs. Bruce attributed his averted face to shyness, but the direction of his glance gave her an idea.
“Well, I’m sure, Betsy, you should be pleased,” she remarked. “One might think the boat was named for you.”
“Betsy wasn’t ever clever to me,” said Hiram calmly. “She began spellin’ me down at school here when we were children, and she’s ben spellin’ me down ever since.”
Mrs. Bruce looked curiously at the frowning countenance of the capable woman who had meant so much in her husband’s household.
“Just like a snapdragon always,” went on Hiram slowly; “touch her and she’d fly all to pieces; and I guess you put on the finishin’ touch, takin’ her to Europe, Mrs. Bruce. She’s so toploftical to-day that she won’t scarcely speak to me.”
“Betsy was a good traveler; I wouldn’t ask a better,” said Mrs. Bruce absently. The subject of the boat’s name rankled. Her desire to coerce humanity for its own good was like a fire always laid and ready to be kindled, and Hiram had applied the match.
“What do you think of the new name, Betsy? Don’t you think your old friend would have done better to stick to the Gentle Annie?”