“But if you paid the money and took the ship,” I asked, “what would you do with it?”
“I know exactly what I would do with it,” said Doris. “It is my inheritance, and I would take that ship and make our fortunes. I would begin in a humble way just as people begin in other businesses. I would carry hay, codfish, ice, anything, from one port to another. And when I had made a little money in this way I would sail away to the Orient and come back loaded with rich stuffs and spices.”
“Did the people who sailed the ship before do that?” I asked.
“I have not the slightest doubt of it,” she answered; “and they ran away with the proceeds. I do not know that you can feel as I do,” she continued. “The Merry Chanter is mine. It is my all. For years I have looked forward to what it might bring me. It has brought me nothing but a debt, but I feel that it can be made to do better than that, and my soul is on fire to make it do better.”
It is not difficult to agree with a girl who looks as this one looked and who speaks as this one spoke.
“Doris,” I exclaimed, “if you go into that sort of thing I go with you. I will set the Merry Chanter free.”
“How can you do it?” she cried.
“Doris,” I said, “hear me. Let us be cool and practical.”
“I think neither of us is very cool,” she said, “and perhaps not very practical. But go on.”
“I can pay this bill,” I said, “but in doing it I shall abandon all hope of continuing what I have chosen as my life work; the career which I have marked out for myself will be ended. Would you advise me to do this? And if I did it would you marry me now with nothing to rely upon but our little incomes and what we could make from your ship? Now, do not be hasty. Think seriously, and tell me what you would advise me to do.”