“That’s right. But stay, Captain Bream, I have not nearly done with my scheming yet. And I shall still want you to help me.”
“Go ahead, my dear. I’m your man, for, to tell ’ee the downright truth, I’ve taken a great fancy to these two sisters, an’ would steer a long way out o’ my course to help ’em.”
“I knew you would,” returned Ruth with a little look of triumph. “Whoever comes in contact with these dear friends of mine thinks exactly as you do. Now, their health is not nearly as good as it ought to be, so I want them to have a change of air. You see, the poor little street in which they live is not the freshest in London.”
“Exactly so. They want a trip to Brighton or Broadstairs or Ramsgate, and a whiff of fresh sea-air, eh?” said the captain with a look of satisfaction.
“No not to these places,” said Ruth; “I thought of Yarmouth.”
“Well, Yarmouth—just as good. Any part o’ the coast will do to blow the London cobwebs out o’ their brains—say Yarmouth.”
“Very good, captain, but my difficulty is, how to manage it.”
“Nothing easier, Miss Ruth. I will take an afternoon train, run down, hire a lodgin’, come up to-morrow, an’ carry the Miss Seawards off wi’ me.”
“But suppose they won’t go?”
“But they must go. I’m quite able to take up one under each arm an’ carry ’em off by force if they won’t.”