“Well, 'tis mighty good of you. Your comin' here so to help Bos'n's fight along is—”
“How do you know it is Bos'n altogether? I—” She stopped suddenly, and the color rushed to her face. She rose from the rocker. “I—really, I don't see how we came to be discussing such nonsense,” she said. “Our ages and that sort of thing! Captain Cyrus, I wish you would go to Washington. I think you ought to go.”
But the captain's thoughts were far from Washington at that moment. His own face was alight, and his eyes shone.
“Phoebe,” he faltered unbelievingly, “what was you goin' to say? Do you mean that—that—”
The side door of the house opened. The next instant Mr. Tidditt, a dripping umbrella in his hand, entered the sitting room.
“Hello, Whit!” he hailed. “Just run in for a minute to say howdy.” Then he noticed the schoolmistress, and his expression changed. “Oh! how be you, Miss Dawes?” he said. “I didn't see you fust off. Don't run away on my account.”
“I was just going,” said Phoebe, buttoning her jacket. Captain Cy accompanied her to the door.
“Good-by,” she said. “There was something else I meant to say, but I think it is best to wait. I hope to have some good news for you soon. Something that will send you to Washington with a light heart. Perhaps I shall hear to-morrow. If so, I will call after school and tell you.”
“Yes, do,” urged the captain eagerly. “You'll find me here waitin'. Good news or not, do come. I—I ain't said all I wanted to, myself.”
He returned to the sitting room. The town clerk was standing by the stove. He looked troubled.