“Don’t you do it, Frank,” said John Reed; “get them out of mine: he is courting a girl; but I ain’t so happy. I haven’t anybody to give mine to.”
“Captain,” said Ben, “you will dine with us.”
“By no means.”
“Yes; I insist upon it,” said Sally; “such friends as you don’t grow on every bush.”
“But, Mrs. Rhines, you are worn out with labor and anxiety.”
“I was; but that is all gone now.”
“Well,” said the captain, who perceived that a refusal would do more harm than good, “we will go on board, and get our dinners; your husband, who has had quite enough fatigue for once, will sleep; then we will come to supper, take care of the cattle, and some of us will sit up with Mr. Rhines; you will get a good night’s rest, and then will be all right. To-morrow we will go over and get your folks. I should not feel right to leave you alone.”
The next morning the brig’s boat went over, and brought back Sam Hadlock, his mother, and Sally Merrithew. Captain Rhines followed, in his own boat, with Uncle Isaac, and they brought cooked victuals enough for a small army. The news spread, and by night the house was full.
“Who will take the Perseverance, and go to Portland for the boys, if they are well paid for it?” asked Captain Rhines.
“I,” replied Joe Griffin; “but not for pay.”