"Yes, it always does," said the young Bostonian. "I am like mother in that. She had a delicate constitution, just like mine. One minute she would have a headache as if her head would split open, and half an hour afterward she would feel as well as usual."
"You are very fortunate. I was afraid your headache would make it uncomfortable for you to watch to-night."
"Yes, it would; but, as the captain said, it would have kept me awake. Now I don't believe I can keep from sleeping on my post."
"Why don't you tell Fletcher so?"
"Won't you tell him, Tom? He might pay more attention to it if you told him."
"No, Mr. Peabody. You are certainly the most suitable person to speak to him. What makes you think he would pay more attention to me, who am only a boy?"
"He seems to like you, Tom."
"I hope he does, but really, Mr. Peabody, you must attend to your own business."
Fletcher was at the head of the train, walking beside the first wagon. Hearing hurried steps, he turned, and saw Mr. Lawrence Peabody, panting for breath.
"Have you got over your headache, Mr. Peabody?" he asked, with a quiet smile.