“Well,” said he at last, gruffly; “is that all you came for?”
“No,” answered Becky. “When I found that we were indebted to you for food and clothing, when I began to be a better girl, I felt it was mean to let you do everything, and I, strong and active, doing nothing; so I went to work in the paper mill. You know how it was destroyed.”
“Yes; and how a brave girl, at the risk of her own life, saved a weak and helpless companion,” burst out the captain. “O, I know it!”
“Yes,” said Becky, with heightened color, “the mill was burned. I had saved ninety dollars. O, I did so want to make it a hundred! But I couldn’t. I meant to bring it to you, to pay you in part for what you had done for me and mine. But I’ve brought you the ninety.” And Becky suddenly laid upon the desk before the eyes of the astonished captain her savings.
The captain started, then stared at the little pile of money very hard, then harder still at Becky, and back at the money again, until tears began to drop from his eyes, when, without any further ceremony, he pulled out his handkerchief, and blubbered like a big school-boy. It was now Becky’s turn to be surprised.
“O, captain, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I only wanted to repay you just a little for your kindness. I didn’t mean any harm—indeed I didn’t.”
“Becky Sleeper, you’re a little angel, and I’m an ugly old brute. Pick up your money. I don’t want it. To think that I’ve been abusing you all this time, and you coming in this way to pour coals of fire on my head. I’m an old fool! Take your money—quick!”
“No, captain, don’t ask me to do that. If you knew what a temptation that money has been to me, you would never ask me—never.”
“Temptation! What do you mean?”
“I’ll tell you, captain, a secret. You must not tell, not even Aunt Rebecca. You won’t—will you?” Becky smiled at the captain. “Honor bright.”