“Tush, tush, captain! Now, it’s not so bad. Why, I declare, now, I was kind of pleased when I got sight of her. She’s white, anyway, and she’s right smart.”
“Smart!” The captain sniffed, dubiously. “We’ll get a chance to see about that later on, Mrs. Huzzard. But it’s like your—hem! tender heart to have a good word for all comers, and this is only another proof of it.”
“Pshaw! Now, you’re making game, I guess. That’s what you’re up to, captain,” and Mrs. Huzzard attempted a chaste blush and smile, and succeeded in a smirk. “I’m sure, now, that to hem a few neckties an’ sich like for you is no good reason for thinking I’m doing the same for every one that comes around. No, indeed; my heart ain’t so tender as all that.”
The captain, from under his sandy brows, looked with a certain air of satisfaction at the well rounded personality of Mrs. Huzzard. His vanity was gently pleased—she was a fine woman!
“Well, I mightn’t like it so well myself if I thought you’d do as much for any man,” he acknowledged. “There’s too many men at the Ferry who ain’t fit even to eat one of the pies you make.” 70
Mrs. Huzzard was fluting the edge of a pie at that moment, and looked across the table at the captain, with arch meaning.
“Maybe so; but there’s a right smart lot of fine-looking fellows among them, too; there’s no getting around that.”
The unintelligible mutter of disdain that greeted her words seemed to bring a certain comfort to her widowed heart, for she smiled brightly and flipped the completed pie aside, with an airy grace.
“Now—now, Captain Leek, you can’t be expecting common grubbers of men to have all the advantages of manners that you’ve got. No, sir; you can’t. They hain’t had the bringing up. They hain’t had the schooling, and they hain’t had the soldier drills to teach them to carry themselves like gentlemen. Now, you’ve had all that, and it’s a sight of profit to you. But don’t be too hard on the folks that ain’t jest so finished like as you. There’s that new Rivers girl, now—she ain’t a bad sort, though it is queer to see your boy Dan toting such a stranger into camp, for he never did seem to take to girls much—did he?”
“It’s not so easy to tell what he’s taken to in his time,” returned the captain, darkly. “You know he isn’t my own boy, as I told you before. He was eight years old when I married his mother, and after her death he took the bit in his own teeth, and left home. No great grief to me, for he wasn’t a tender boy to manage!” And Captain Leek heaved a sigh for the martyrdom he had lived through.