Hulda drew a step nearer. With her pet for a subject, the conversation was becoming interesting.
“Yes, while the building was in flames, she dragged Jenny York to the roof, and lowered her to the ground;” and Small related the adventure, painting in glowing colors the heroism of Becky Sleeper.
“Well, well,” said the captain at the close of the narrative, “I’m glad she’s done something to redeem her bad character.”
Hulda Prime took another step forward, and clenched her fist. The captain never knew how narrowly he escaped an assault. “The ugly brute!” she thought, “he should repent that speech.” But remembering she had no right to interfere in that place, she smothered her ruffled feelings, and listened.
“And you say ten thousand dollars would be required to rebuild the mill. A big sum, a very big sum;” and the captain rubbed his hand thoughtfully.
“Yes, the stock’s gone clean; but my agent in Boston would fill me up, if I could only get the mill on its legs again.”
“Hem! pays good profit, hey?” asked the captain.
“Splendid! I had a customer for all I could make. Might rebuild on shares with my agents. I guess they’d come down with five thousand, if I could show the other five.”
“Would they,” said the captain, lighting up, “then you’re all right, Small. All right! build it up and set it agoing.”