“Aunt, I’ve been thinking—about the captain,” he began timidly.
“What captain?” she asked sharply.
“The captain—Captain Garraway-Kyle. You remember he was very kind to me.”
“Ah! So you’re getting tired of me, are you?”
“Indeed, no,” said Comethup. “I’m sure you don’t think that. But I’ve thought of the captain very often, and I shouldn’t like him to think that I’d forgotten him. Besides, you asked him to come and see me yourself.”
“Quite right, Comethup, quite right. I’m a foolish old woman, and you’re a good fellow not to forget your old friend. Write to him to-night, and ask him to come here and stay as long as he likes. Tell him to let you know by what train he is coming, and on what day, and you can drive down to the station to meet him. Will that satisfy you?”
Comethup thanked her gratefully, and wrote to the captain within the hour, begging him to come to town at the earliest possible moment and to stay as long as he could. He wrote the letter very carefully, and scanned it anxiously afterward; but finally sent it, and began to count the hours before a reply could be received. He began, too, to arrange what should be done for the captain’s entertainment when he arrived.
Two days elapsed, and then there came a letter addressed to Master Comethup Willis in a small, stiff, rather cramped handwriting. The letter was brought to him while he sat at breakfast with his aunt; he tore it open eagerly, and exclaimed at once, “Oh, he’s coming, he’s coming!”
“The captain?” inquired his aunt.
“Yes. He writes very nicely. He says he will be most—where is it?—oh, he says he’ll be ‘most delighted to accept, and will come on Thursday’; that’s to-morrow. He’s very particular; he’s written quite plainly the name of the station, and the time the train arrives.”