“Yes, sir.”
“So. Where'd you buy it—up to Concord?”
“No, sir. Mamma made it, a year ago.”
There was a little choke in the child's voice. The captain was mightily taken back.
“Hum! Yes, yes,” he muttered hurriedly. “Well, there you are. Now you can get along, can't you?”
“Yes, sir. Shall I go in that room?”
“Trot right in. You might—er—maybe you might sing out when you're tucked up. I—I'll want to know if you're got bedclothes enough.”
Emily disappeared in the bedroom. The door closed. Captain Cy, his hands in his pockets, walked up and down the length of the sitting room. The expression on his face was a queer one.
“I haven't got any nightgown,” called a voice from the other room. The captain gasped.
“Good land! so you ain't,” he exclaimed. “What in the world—Humph! I wonder—”