Silly looked at the captain and then at Becky, evidently believing that it was her duty to stay and protect Becky.
“Here; you start your boots—quick!”
The captain mounted his high horse, and Silly started for the kitchen in a hurry.
“Now, Miss Becky, what have you to say?”
The captain sat at his desk, and motioned Becky to a chair. She did not obey his motion, but came to his side.
“Captain Thompson, I’ve been wanting to come to you, to thank you for being so kind to us all, for helping—no, not helping, for you have done everything. You have given us food and clothing; and without your aid I don’t know what would have become of us.”
“O, pshaw!” said the captain. “Is that all you came for?”
“No. I came to beg your pardon for being so much trouble to you when I was a wild tomboy. I was young then; didn’t know how wrong it was. I’m older now, and see my error.”
The captain looked at her with increasing wonder. Could this be the tomboy who had snatched his whip from his hand, stolen his horse, and given him such a chase—this little woman, with her sweet voice and penitent air? Or was this some new trick?