“Alfaretta Babcock! I certainly am ashamed of you. That’s a hard thing to say, just at parting, but it’s the truth. The idea! First you fancy a decent human being will drown you because you haven’t a little money, and then you can’t reckon fifteen! What would dear Mr. Seth say, after teaching you so faithfully? Never mind. Don’t act so foolish any more and I’ll go get the money.”
This was not so easy as she fancied. The boat was already nearing the next landing where Alfaretta must go ashore, or be carried on to a much greater distance from her home, but it seemed difficult to make Miss Greatorex understand what was wanted and why. The poor lady’s deafness had increased since her fright and exposure at the time of the fire and, now that she had been put into a position of greater trust than ever before, her sense of responsibility weighed heavily upon her. At parting, her principal, Miss Rhinelander, had enjoined:
“Take particular care of the girls’ finances, Cousin Isobel. It is important that they should learn to be wise in their small expenditures so that they may be equally prudent when they come to have the handling of larger sums—if that should ever be. Make them give a strict account of everything and check any foolishness at the beginning.”
The subordinate promised. She was a “poor relation” and knew that she was an unpopular teacher with many of the pupils of the fine school, though she had modified her sternness altogether in the case of Dorothy who had saved her from the fire. But the mandate of her superior was fresh in her mind. She had been touched by the rarely familiar “Cousin Isobel,” and determined to do her duty to the utmost. Yet here was Dorothy already screaming into her deafest ear:
“My purse, please, Miss Greatorex! I want some money right away! Quick, quick, please, or it’ll be too late!”
The girl’s voice was so highly pitched that people around began to stare and some of them to smile. Like most afflicted persons the lady was sensitive to the observation of others and now held up her hand in protest against the attention they were attracting.
“Softly, Dorothy. Better write what you wish if you cannot speak more distinctly;” and a small pad with pencil was extended.
But Dorothy did not take them. The satchel upon Miss Greatorex’s lap was open, her own and Molly’s purses lay within. To snatch them both up and rush away was her impulsive act and to scamper back across the deck, wherever she could find a passage, took but a moment longer. But she was none too soon.
Down below the steward was again crying:
“All aboard what’s goin’! All ashore what ain’t! All who hasn’t got deir tickets, please step right down to de Cap’n’s office and settle.”