“Right? Of course it’s right,” said the captain, roused at a chance for opposition. “She’s no right to prevent you, and I should like to see her do it. You want to go to Boston. You shall go.”
Becky flushed with pleasure.
“O, if could only go! I know I could succeed. But what would Aunt Rebecca and—”
“Hang Aunt Rebecca!” shouted the captain, cutting in to prevent the addition of the other name. “I’ve just as much right to direct your actions as she has. I’m going to Boston to-morrow morning. You shall go with me.”
Before the appearance of Becky, the captain had no intention of taking a journey.
“O, that will be splendid—if I only could.”
“You can, and shall. Go home, get ready, and to-morrow morning at five o’clock meet me at the school-house. Phil shall drive us over to Foxtown. We’ll take the cars there, and be in Boston at one. Here, take your money;” and the captain swept it from the desk, and put it in her hand. “When I want it, I’ll ask for it.”
“But how can I ever pay you?”
“By shaking hands, and being friends with the old man. You may add a kiss if you like.”
“A dozen!” cried Becky, throwing her arms about the captain’s neck. “You dear, good, kind, noble old captain!”