“If he can explain, well and good. You can refer the whole matter to me. But if he can't—there you are.”
Corrigan pondered. “That seems fair. I'll talk it over with my father. I'm much obliged to you, anyhow.”
“Not at all.”
A reaction had followed the fire and the long strain leading up to it. They all felt it. Crosman, wearied by the comparative idleness that was forced upon him, was irritable and inclined to chafe against the steady disapproval of Mrs. Higginson. Halloran was plunged in gloom most of the time. And to add to the depression Captain Craig decided to give up his post.
“You see, Mr. Halloran,” he said, in speaking of it, “you maybe wouldn't think to look at me that I'm a great-grandfather, but I've known it by my feelings since the fire. I didn't stand it very well—the running and the wet and all; and my eyes have been bothering me, too. Jennie and me, we've been talking it over, and she thinks I ought to just quit now, and look after the garden, and take it kind of easy. There's no room for us old fellows now, anyhow. A man had better make up his mind to it before he gets crowded out. I've saved a little something—enough to live on, and I've got my place, and I guess that's enough for anybody.”
“You're mistaken, Captain. There's not a better man on the Lakes, and I'm glad to tell you so. The Number One is yours as long as you'll keep her.”
There were tears in the Captain's eyes. “That's all right—I'm obliged to you. But I guess it's time to quit now while we're shut down and you have a good chance to look around for somebody else. There's only one thing that's been bothering me. Do you think you're going to have a place for George?”
“I'm sure of it. He's going to make a good man before he gets through with it.”
“I'm glad you think so. I must tell Jennie—it'll please her. And say—here's a little something—George says he's owed you three-fifty for a long while. He's managed to save it up now, and he wanted me to hand it to you.”
Halloran had to think. “Oh, that—that's nothing—I couldn't take it.”