“That, and all that come of it.”
Betsy stared, a little disappointed at her admirer’s foreknowledge.
“Has Mr. Irving told you—” she began.
“Irving hasn’t had a chance to tell me much. That Nixie feller talks to beat the clapper of a bell.”
“But you like him, don’t you, Hiram? He’s an awful nice, kind boy.”
“I guess he will be when I get him trained,” returned Hiram equably. “He’s beginnin’ to understand that I’m the cap’n o’ the Betsy.”
“If you knew how disagreeable that sounds, you’d never say it in my presence!”
Hiram lifted the sea-blue eyes, and fixed hers with their gaze.
“That sentence has got more music in it,” he declared slowly, “than any other in the English language. I’ll be good to you, Betsy—as good as a man knows how to be to a woman. You’ve taken care o’ folks for the last twenty years. I want the job o’ takin’ care o’ you the next twenty.”