As he ended, he rose from his chair. The boys now gathered about him, and asked him to come up to Bart’s room, just overhead, and let them see his infant. They addressed consoling words to him, and sought to smooth down his ruffled feelings.
But Captain Corbet shook his head.
“No, boys,” said he, “thankee kindly. You’re all right,—’tain’t you, ’tain’t your fault,—but I feel sore. There’s somethin opperessive in this here intellectooil atmosphiour. I must seek elsewhere for comfort to my ruffled busom. Thankee kindly, boys. Some other time, not now—some other time.”
Saying this, the aged captain left the room, and descended the stairs, and took his departure. The boys watched his venerable figure till it paased out of sight; and the slow pace, and bent head, and mournful mood of their beloved navigator touched all their hearts with a common feeling of sympathy.
As Captain Corbet’s retreating figure disappeared from view, the boys turned away, and walked slowly along the front of the Academy, with a vague idea of taking a walk up to the camp. But before they had gone any great distance they met Dr. Porter.
“Boys,” said he, “you’ll be glad to know that your French relics are all labelled, and are now ready to be taken to the Museum.”
“May we take them there, sir?”
“O, yes.”
“When?”
“Now, if you like. I’ll go back to the house, and let you have them.”