Eve read the great man’s letter a second time, while the captain scratched his head and watched her.
“And,” he said meekly, “what do you think of doing?”
Eve looked up with a happy smile.
“What he tells me,” she answered. “Oh, I am so glad, uncle; I cannot tell you how glad I am.”
The captain shuffled awkwardly on his feet.
“I’m more than glad,” he said. “I’m sorter proud.”
He pulled down his coat and walked to the window.
“Yes,” he said, looking out into the street. “That’s it. I’m proud. It’s a great gift--writin’. A great gift.”
Eve laughed.
“Oh!” she answered. “I’m afraid that I have no gift. It is a very, very minute talent. That is all. I always liked books, but I have not the gift for writing them.”