"You better come away, Miss Lou," said Betty. "The constable'll git that old pirate; that's what'll happen to him."
"Stop!" exclaimed Louise. "I'll listen to no more. I do not believe these things you say. And neither of you can prove them. I'm going to bed. Good-night, Aunt Euphemia," and she marched out of the room.
That closed the discussion. Cap'n Amazon bowed Mrs. Conroth politely out of the door and Betty went with her. Louise did not get to sleep in her chamber overhead for hours; nor did she hear the captain come upstairs at all.
In the morning's post there was a letter for Louise from her father—a letter that had been delayed. It had been mailed at the same time the one to Aunt Euphemia was sent. The Curlew would soon turn her bows Bostonward, the voyage having been successful from a scientific point of view. Professor Grayling even mentioned the loss of a small boat in a squall, when it had been cast adrift from the taffrail by accident.
Betty, with face like a thundercloud, had brought the letter up to Louise. When the girl had hastily read it through she ran down to show it to Cap'n Amazon. She found him reading an epistle of his own, while Cap'n Joab, Milt Baker, Washy Gallup, and several other neighbors hovered near.
"Yep. I got one myself," announced Cap'n Amazon.
"Oh, captain!"
"Yep. From Abe. Good reason why your father didn't speak of Abe in his letter to your a'nt. Didn't in yours, did he?"
Louise shook her head.
"No? Listen here," Cap'n Amazon said. "'I haven't spoke to Professor
Grayling. He don't know Abe Silt from the jib-boom. Why should he? I
am a foremast hand and he lives abaft. But he is a fine man.
Everybody says so. We've had some squally weather——'