“Yes, she has, too. One of the Salters young ones told me. I knew you'd be mad, though I s'pose folks that didn't know her's well's we do would say she's no different from other children.”
This was close to heresy, according to the captain's opinion.
“She ain't!” he cried. “I'd like to know why not! If she ain't twice as smart as the run of young ones 'round here then—Humph! And she's kept after school! Well, now; I won't have it! There's enough time for studyin' without wearin' out her brains after hours. Oh, I guess you're mistaken.”
“No, we ain't. I tell you, Whit, if I was you I'd make a fuss about this. She's a smart child, Bos'n is; I never see a smarter. And she ain't any too strong.”
“That's so, she ain't.” The idea that Emily's health was “delicate” had become a fixed fact in the minds of the captain and the “Board.” It made a good excuse for the systematic process of “spoiling” the girl, which the indulgent three were doing their best to carry on.
“I wouldn't let her be kept, Cy,” urged Bailey. “Why don't you go right off and see Phoebe and settle this thing? You've got a right to talk to her. She wouldn't be teacher if it wasn't for you.”
Asaph added his arguments to those of Mr. Bangs. Captain Cy, carried away by his firm belief that Bos'n was a paragon of all that was brilliant and good, finally yielded.
“All right!” he exclaimed. “Come on! That poor little thing shan't be put upon by nobody.”
The trio marched majestically down the hill. As they neared the schoolhouse Bailey's courage began to fail. Miss Dawes was a boarder at his house, and he feared consequences should Keturah learn of his interference.
“I—I guess you don't need me,” he stammered. “The three of us 'll scare that teacher woman most to death. And she's so little and meek, you know. If I should lose my temper and rare up I might say somethin' that would hurt her feelin's. I'll set on the fence and wait for you and Ase, Whit.”