So it was not till the early part of October that the little boat was painted and dried and in the water; and very nice she looked. Painted in the old colours; Elizabeth had been particular about that. Rose in the meantime had been heard from. She was coming, very soon, only staying for something, it wasn't very clearly made out what, that would however let her go in a few days. Elizabeth threw the letter down, with the mental conclusion that it was "just like Rose;" and resolved that her arms should be in a good state of training before the 'few days' were over.
"Who's goin' in this little concern?" said Mr. Underhill as he pushed it into the water. "Looks kind o' handsome, don't it?"
"Very nice!" said Elizabeth.
"That old black feller ain't up to rowin' you anywhere, is he?
I don't believe he is."
"I'll find a way to get about in her, somehow."
"You must come over and see our folks — over the other side. My old mother's a great notion to see you —" said he, pulling the boat round into place, — "and I like she should have what she's a fancy for."
"Thank you," said Elizabeth; with about as much heed to his words as if a coney had requested her to take a look into his burrow. But a few minutes after, some thought made her speak again.
"Have you a mother living, sir?"
"Ay," he said with a little laugh, "she ain't a great deal older than I be. She's as spry in her mind, as she was when she was sixteen. Now — will you get into this?"
"Not now. Whereabouts do you live?"