“I—I’d love to do it, Mr. Barnes. I’d love to do it awful well, but—but who’s to take care of him?”
“I know, but, Maria, don’t you think you’d rather take care of me?”
“But him!” Maria was very much in earnest and very anxious for this hero of hers to fully understand. “You know all he’s done for me. If it hadn’t been for him and his, I’d be just nothing at all, instead of bein’ what I am, an’ goin’ to marry a real high-class man like you. I—I’m afraid you’ll have to wait, Mr. Barnes,” she added very regretfully. “I’m awfully sorry, but I couldn’t leave him all alone!”
He looked at her for a moment with as close an approach to a frown as was possible for his face to assume, and something very like a threat of jealousy in his voice.
“Sometimes, Maria, I believe you love that old Doctor of yours more than you do me!”
“I don’t know. Maybe I do, but it ain’t the same. You see, he needs me, because he’s old and sick, and all alone, and you—just look at yourself—red-faced, an’ strong, an’ jolly, an’ handsome. You may want me, Mr. Barnes, but you don’t need nobody.”
Mr. Barnes tried to assume an injured look at this, but only succeeded in grinning cheerfully, so he gave it up, and decided to make the best of things. His life in the Navy had taught him the virtue of loyalty, and in his heart he loved all the better for her devotion.
“Well, Maria, you’re the boss. I ain’t kicking, but it’s tough. Never mind; you get off to-night, and we’ll have a good time, anyhow. I’ll take you to the Hippodrome.”
“Oh! Won’t that be fine? I can get away all right, because Dr. Crossett is here, and they wouldn’t want me around anyway. We’ll have the best time in the world!”
Whatever disappointment the sailor might have felt was overshadowed by her happiness, and he started to describe in advance some of the wonders they were to see that night, when a ring at the bell interrupted them.