“I guess Isaac was right: he said difficulty would spur ’em up, and draw ’em out. I should think it was doing it, if it has drawn that out of ’em.”
While this conversation was going on, Sally was sewing with all her might, improving the moments while the children were asleep: she had, nevertheless, been an attentive listener. At length, laying down her work, she said, “Charlie, I don’t suppose you would think very highly of any advice or opinion coming from a woman in regard to these affairs.”
“Yes, I would, mother; I would think a great deal of your opinion about anything.”
“Well, then, I think I can help you about your sails.”
“You, mother!” cried Charlie, in astonishment.
“Yes, me. I think that I, and other women that I can find could weave the greater part, if not the whole, of the duck for your sails, if we could get the flax, and a good deal cheaper than you can buy it: perhaps it wouldn’t look so well, but I’ll be bound ’twould wear as well.”
“You’ve done it now, Sally,” said Ben. “That is the most sensible plan for saving I’ve heard yet. But do you know what an undertaking you’ve laid out for yourself? Why, there’ll be over seven hundred yards of cloth in the mainsail alone.”
“Did you ever know me set out to do anything I didn’t accomplish?”
“No; except this.”
“I shall accomplish this.”