“Why—er—how d'ye do? I'm pretty smart, thank you. How's yourself?”
“I'm better now. I guess the sass'parilla was good for me.”
“'Twan't the sass'p'rilla,” observed the captain, with conviction. “'Twas the 'Arabian Balsam.' Ma always cured me with it and there's nothin' finer.”
“But what in time—” began Bailey. Captain Cy glanced at the child and then at the clock.
“Don't you think you'd better turn in now, Emmie?” he said hastily, cutting off the remainder of the Bangs query. “It's after eight, and when I was little I was abed afore that.”
Emily obediently turned, gathered up the Lady's Books and replaced them in the closet. Then she went to the dining room and came back with a hand lamp.
“Good night,” she said, addressing the visitors. Then, coming close to the captain, she put her face up for a kiss.
“Good night,” she said to him, adding, “I like it here ever so much. I'm awful glad you let me stay.”
As Bailey told Asaph afterwards, Captain Cy blushed until the ends of the red lapped over at the nape of his neck. However, he bent and kissed the rosy lips and then quickly brushed his own with his hand.
“Yes, yes,” he stammered. “Well—er—good night. Pleasant dreams to you. See you in the mornin'.”