“Do it in no time,” said Puff. “Be all dry in the mornin’.”
“Then she’ll have to be called the Sibyl, for to-morrow,” said Bar, with more color than usual in his face. “Paint it as nicely as you can. When I sell her back to you, you can name her over again if you choose.”
“All right,” replied Puff. “That’s a good enough name for a boat, anyhow. I’ve seen right big boats and nice ones, too, with the meanest kind of names.”
Val Manning chuckled in Bar’s very face, as Puff declared his not very complimentary assent, but Bar seemed to have nothing to say, and they went home to supper.
“Now, Mrs. Brayton,” said Bar, just before they left the table, “there isn’t a bit of danger, and I’m so glad you’ve consented. I’m sorry you can’t go; but Mr. Brayton himself can take care of Miss Sibyl. Then there’s one thing more I have to ask of her.”
“What’s that?” said Sibyl.
“Why, I’m only a boy, you know, and I wouldn’t dare to go over and ask Dr. Dryer’s daughter to come, too. She’d be company for you, and if you’d only do me the favor to ask her for me, I’d be ever so much obliged.”
Bar could hardly understand why Mrs. Brayton’s eyebrows should contract so suddenly as they did, or why George Brayton should so promptly come to his support, with:
“That’ll be just the thing, Sibyl. She’s tried to be polite to you and mother, and I’m sure she’d enjoy it.”
If Mrs. Brayton had meant to put in any objection it was too late now, for Sibyl was even demonstrative in her readiness to secure the company of Effie Dryer.