Captain Cy was silent all the way to the gate of the perfect boarding house. Miss Dawes was silent likewise, but she thought a great deal. At the gate she said:
“Captain Whittaker, I'm EVER so much obliged to you. I can't thank you enough.”
“Don't try, then. That's what you said to me about the cow.”
“But I'm almost sorry you were the one to come. I'm afraid that man will get you into trouble. Has he—can he—What did he mean about to-morrow? Who IS he?”
The captain pushed his cap back from his forehead.
“Teacher,” he said, “there's a proverb, ain't there, about lettin' to-morrow take care of itself? As for trouble—well, I did think I'd had trouble enough in my life to last me through, but I cal'late I've got another guess. Anyhow, don't you fret. I did just the right thing, and I'm glad I did it. If it was only me I wouldn't fret, either. But there's—” He stopped, groaned, and pulled the cap forward again. “Good night,” he added, and turned to go.
Miss Dawes leaned forward and detained him.
“Just a minute, Cap'n Whittaker,” she said. “I was a little prejudiced against you when I came here. I was told that you got me the teacher's position, and there was more than a hint that you did it for selfish reasons of your own. When you called that afternoon at the school I was—”
“Don't say a word! I was the biggest fool in town that time, and I've been ashamed to look in the glass ever since. I ain't always such an idiot.”
“But I've had to judge people for myself in my lifetime,” continued the schoolmistress, “and I've made up my mind that I was mistaken about you. I should like to apologize. Will you shake hands?”