“But I’ve settled things now,” continued the captain. “Next Monday the young ones go to school.”
“Next Monday! No, no; don’t send them then!” cried Mrs. Thompson, with a shade of alarm in her manner.
“And why not? I’d like to know. Next Monday the term begins.”
“Yes; but—but hadn’t you better wait a few days?”
“Wait? wait? I won’t wait a moment after the doors open. Next Monday they go, bright and early.”
“Just as you say, Paul,” said Mrs. Thompson, with a sigh. “How is Delia? looking well?”
“No; she looks bad. Think she might, with that grumbling old crone fastened on to her.”
“Old crone! Why, Paul, whom do you mean?”
“Hulda Prime. She’s dropped in there to ‘help!’ Help make her miserable; that’s all she’ll do. Plaguy old busybody, meddling in other people’s affairs! I wish the town was well rid of her.”