"He will be something else, and he'll not get over it," she said to herself, while her eyes were too full to let her see a single thing outside the window. "He is fit for something else, and he will have it, hard or easy, short or long; and I hope he will! — and oh, I wish father had done what would be for his honour in this thing! —"
There was a bitter taste to the last sentence, and tears would not wash it out. Elizabeth was more superb than ordinary that night at supper, and had neither smiles nor words for anybody.
A day or two after they were going away.
"Winthrop," she said at parting, (not at all by familiarity, but because she did not in common grant them a right to any title whatsoever) — "may I leave you my little Merry-go-round? — and will you let nobody have the charge of it except yourself?"
He smiled and thanked her.
"'Tisn't much thanks," she said; meaning thanks' worth. "It is I who have to thank you."
For she felt that she could not send any money to the boy who had taken care of her horse.
The family party gathered that night round the supper-table with a feeling of relief upon several of them. Mr. Landholm's face looked satisfied, as of a man who had got a difficult job well over; Mrs. Landholm's took time to be tired; Winthrop's was as usual, though remembering with some comfort that there would not be so many wantings of fish, nor so many calls upon his strength of arm for boat exercise. Rufus was serious and thoughtful; the children disposed to be congratulatory.
"It's good I can sit somewhere but on the corner," said
Asahel, — "and be by ourselves."
"It's good I can have my old place again," said Winifred, "and sit by Governor."