Teddy Sleeper, by mutual consent of the two captains, was regularly apprenticed to the trade of ship carpentering—an occupation which soon reduced his weight, enlarged his muscles, and increased his appetite. Hard work dissipated his once sluggish disposition; a love for his trade aroused ambition; and Captain Thompson had the satisfaction of knowing his protege would in time become a successful ship-builder.
Harry Thompson entered the office of Squire Alden, to study law, to the delight of his father, and took to work so earnestly that the scheming captain could not find it in his heart to risk another rupture by opening his batteries for the purpose of defeating the alliance which he had many reasons for believing was at some future time to be completed between his son and Alice Parks.
Two years after the death of her mother found Becky Sleeper mistress of her father’s home, with unlimited means at her command, yet careful and prudent in its management, relying upon her tried friends—Aunt Hulda and Mrs. Thompson—for advice; always cheerful, yet ever earnest, doing her best for the comfort of all about her, moving easily in her exalted sphere, with all the roughness of her tomboy days quite worn away, and the graces of gentle, cultivated womanhood shining all about her.
Cleverly folks were prouder of the young housekeeper than they had been of the brave girl. Captain Sleeper was a social man, and would have a lively house, and many and brilliant were the gatherings over which Becky presided. Yet she liked the neighborly company of Captain Thompson, or Aunt Rebecca, or Harry best of all. The latter made himself quite at home there, and of course Cleverly people talked about it, and made a match at once.
Yet the young people spoken of hardly acted like lovers. They were not in the habit of secreting themselves among the window curtains, or wandering down the walks hand in hand, or conversing in that mysterious language of the eyes so tender and significant. And so at last the good people believed themselves mistaken, and the wife-seeking young fellows of the neighborhood took courage, and laid siege to the richly-endowered heart of Miss Becky Sleeper.
One of the number—Herbert Arnold, son of the pastor, a slim, delicate young man—became a frequent visitor, and threw longing glances through the glasses of his gold-rimmed spectacles, and paid much attention to Aunt Hulda, whose pies were his exceeding delight, and listened to the captain’s long yarns without a yawn, and went away firmly convinced he was making an impression upon the heart of Becky. But the young lady shut the door after him, with a smile, and turned away, to dream of somebody else.
The last rays of an October sun were decking the broad piazza of the house with a golden glow. It had been a busy day with Becky, and, a little weary, she threw open the door, to breathe the air, after her long season of labor. Sitting on the steps, tracing in the sand before him with a cane, was Harry Thompson, evidently busy with some problem. With a smile, she cautiously slipped behind him, and looked at his work. No difficult problem tasked his cane; only a name written in the sand—“Becky Sleeper.” She started back, and a flush deeper than the sun could paint overspread her face.
Harry writes in the Sand. [Page 243].
“Why, Harry! you here?”