“Fitchburg,” said the old man eagerly.
“That's right!” commented the captain. “Get you there in plenty of time, if we don't lose any now. And I'll tell you what, my little girl,” he added, turning to Lydia: “if it'll be a comfort to you to ride up with us, and see your grandfather off, why come along! My girls went with me the last time on an express wagon.”
“No,” answered Lydia. “I want to. But it wouldn't be any comfort. I thought that out before I left home, and I'm going to say good-by to grandfather here.”
“First-rate!” said Captain Jenness, bustling towards the gangway so as to leave them alone. A sharp cry from the old man arrested him.
“Lyddy! Where's your trunks?”
“Why!” said the girl, catching her breath in dismay, “where can they be? I forgot all about them.”
“I got the checks fast enough,” said the old man, “and I shan't give 'em up without I get the trunks. They'd ought to had 'em down here long ago; and now if I've got to pester round after 'em I'm sure to miss the train.”
“What shall we do?” asked Lydia.
“Let's see your checks,” said the captain, with an evident ease of mind that reassured her. When her grandfather had brought them with difficulty from the pocket visited last in the order of his search, and laid them in the captain's waiting palm, the latter endeavored to get them in focus. “What does it say on 'em?” he asked, handing them to Lydia. “My eyes never did amount to anything on shore.” She read aloud the name of the express stamped on them. The captain gathered them back into his hand, and slipped them into his pocket, with a nod and wink full of comfort. “I'll see to it,” he said. “At any rate, this ship ain't a-going to sail without them, if she waits a week. Now, then, Mr. Latham!”
The old man, who waited, when not directly addressed or concerned, in a sort of blank patience, suddenly started out of his daze, and following the captain too alertly up the gangway stairs drove his hat against the hatch—with a force that sent him back into Lydia's arms.