"Well, now," said she, "my husband, the father of Jonas, and the grandfather of the little Jonas, he always sailed in a schooner, and the ship was the Bold Venture."
"The Bonaventura, I think. I remember her."
"I'm sure she was the Bold Venture."
"I think not, Mrs. Rea."
"It must have been the Bold Venture or Bold Adventurer. What sense is there in such a name as Boneventure? I never heard of no such venture, unless it were that of Jack Smithson, who jumped out of a garret window, and sure enough he broke a bone of his leg. No, Mr. Elway, I'll have her entitled the Bold Venture."
"I'll not gainsay you. Bold Venture she shall be."
Then the painter very dexterously and daintily put the name in black paint on the white strip at the stern.
"Will it be dry by to-morrow?" asked the old woman. "That's the little lad's birthday, and I promised to have his schooner ready for him to sail her then."
"I've put dryers in the paint," answered Mr. Elway, "and you may reckon it will be right for to-morrow."
That night Betty was unable to sleep, so eager was she for the day when the little boy would attain his ninth year and become the possessor of the beautiful ship she had fashioned for him with her own hands, and on which, in fact, she had been engaged for more than a twelvemonth.