“There’s ten reasons. One is, because I ain’t goin’ to let you, an’ the other nine is because I ain’t goin’ to let you! I wouldn’t do it myself, an’ you ain’t goin’ to, neither. Will you clear out o’ here, peaceful, or be you goin’ to make me matt onta you an’ carry you out?”
The doctor hesitated. Ezra added:
“Now, doc, don’t you git me harr’d up, or there’ll be stormy times!”
Filhiol yielded. He followed Ezra to the galley, where the old man practically interned him. Inwardly he cursed this development. What might not happen, were the captain now to discover the loss of the money while Hal was there? But to argue with Ezra was hopeless. Filhiol settled down by the stove and resigned himself to moody ponderings.
“This summer, take things easy,” the captain was saying, with indulgence. “In the fall you’ll enter some other college and win honors as we all expect you to. So you’ll be glad to go, won’t you, Hal?”
“I’ll be glad to go, all right!”
“That’s fine!” smiled the captain. He got out of bed in his bathrobe, slid his feet into slippers, and stood there a moment, looking at Hal.
“Boy,” said he, “on the way back from town I made up my mind to do the right thing by you, to give you something every young fellow along the coast ought to have. You were asking me for a boat, and I refused you. I was wrong. Nothing finer, after all, than a little cruising up and down the shore. I’ve changed my mind, Hal.” He laid an affectionate hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I’m going to give you the money for Gordon’s Kittiwink.”
“Huh?” grunted Hal, standing up in vast astonishment and anxiety.
“Take the money, Hal, and buy your heart’s dearest wish,” said the old captain. “It’ll maybe pinch me, for a while, but you’re all I’ve got to love and some way I can rub along. If I can give you a happy summer the few hundred dollars won’t mean much, after all. So, boy, get yourself the boat. Why, what’s the matter? You look kind of flabbergasted, Hal. Aren’t you glad and thankful?”