All this time Captain Thompson was patiently sitting in a carriage at the entrance, awaiting the return of his charge. On the arrival of the train in Boston at one o’clock, he had taken a carriage and driven to the engraver’s. He had been anxious to participate in the interview; but Becky, fearing his quick temper might cause trouble, had prevailed upon him to allow her to be the sole carver of her fortunes with the wood carver. Thus far the peppery captain had enjoyed this, to him, new sensation hugely. The bright, cheerful, happy demeanor of the girl, her intelligent and witty conversation, her delight in the fresh experience of the day, had made him really happy; and his warm heart bubbled up through its rough exterior with desires to still further gratify her wishes.
And so he waited patiently a long hour for her return. She came bounding down the stairs, and leaped into the carriage, her face rosy, her eyes bright with triumph.
“It’s a success, captain. I’ve conquered, and I’m carrying home lots of work.”
“Of course you’ve conquered. I knew you would; and we’ve done it without their—her—help, too,” said the captain, chuckling with triumph. “Now let’s see—we’ve got two hours for dinner and a drive; and then back to Cleverly.”
They drove to a hotel, had an excellent dinner, took the carriage again, and Becky was shown the Boston sights, all of which were new revelations to the country girl, whose delight made the old captain’s heart glow and glow again.
In due time they took the train for Foxtown, and then Becky related her adventure, in the course of which Miss Alice Parks appeared upon the scene.
“She’s a dear friend of Harry’s—your Harry, captain. I shouldn’t wonder if one of these days she should become his wife.”
Becky said this bravely. The captain could not know what a throb of pain darted through Becky’s bosom at the thought.
“Become his wife! Nonsense! What are you thinking of, Becky?”