“You know I don’t,” she said, sighing.
“She’d take you away to-morrow,” he threatened, “if she knew I had—I had—”
“She sha’n’t know it.”
“Well, then, we’ve got to get spliced to-morrow.”
“Oh, Alfred, no! I don’t believe Dr. Lavendar would—”
“I’ll have no dealings with Lavendar,” the Captain said, with sudden stiffness; “he’s like all the rest of ’em. I’ll get a license in Upper Chester, and we’ll go to some parson there.”
Mrs. North’s eyes snapped. “Oh, no, no!” she protested; but in another minute they were shaking hands on it.
“Cyrus and Gussie can go and live by themselves,” said the Captain, joyously, “and I’ll get that hold cleaned out; she’s kept the ports shut ever since she married Cyrus.”
“And I’ll make a cake! And I’ll take care of your clothes; you really are dreadfully shabby”; she turned him round to the light, and brushed off some ashes. The Captain beamed. “Poor Alfred! and there’s a button gone! that daughter-in-law of yours can’t sew any more than a cat (and she is a cat!). But I love to mend. Mary has saved me all that. She’s such a good daughter—poor Mary. But she’s unmarried, poor child.”
