Mary. Oh! he’s all right! Here he is, father. Come and see him. (They go together to the hammock.) He hasn’t been sick a day this summer. The dear little fellow! He grows like a weed.
J. Q. A. (at the hammock, aside). A pig weed, I s’pose.
Capt. G. Yer see, Mary, yer trouble has set me ter thinkin’; an’ when you wrote they was goin’ to take away yer boat, just cos yer was a woman, by the great horn spoon, I was mad: for yer a Gandy cl’ar through, a sea-cap’n born like all the rest on us. And I’ve made up my mind that wimmin’s rights must be worth suthin’ to wimmin, as well as men’s rights to men. An’, as old Pete Rosson said, when he felt so bad about yer losing the boat, “Sence a woman can’t allus hev her husband or her father tew take care on her, she ort to have the right to take care o’ herself, an’ then she can use it or not, as she wants tew.” An’ so I begin to think that I don’t care if we do let ’em vote.
J. Q. A. (examining the wheel). Cracky! you can’t make me believe that. I shall vote in five years, and I’m sure I don’t want Leafy Jane taggin’ after me to the poles. ’Tain’t any place for girls.
Capt. G. Stop yer gab! Wait till yer ten year older an’ then if yer up for see-lectman, yer’ll be glad enuf ter have tem vote for yaou!
J. Q. A. Wouldn’t I make a healthy selectman? Yes, I guess not!
Capt. G. An’—an’, Mary, I want to tell yer suthin’ else. I gin in about yer mother’s caarf, an’ went an’ bought her back. To be sure, she ain’t a caarf no longer, but a good likely heifer; but yer mother sez the principle ’s just as good as if she was jest born, or as old as Methuselum. An’ she’s tickled enuf abaout it, an’ she said men ain’t so bad arter all, if yer can onny make ’em see what is wimmin’s jest dues.
(Enter Phus, L.)
Phus. Oh, mis’! dere’s a s’prise for yer, a golly big one!
Mary. A surprise! What is it?