"Now, I'll have some soup, please," observed Emily. "I'm awful hungry. I had breakfast at five o'clock this morning and we didn't have a chance to eat much."A good many times that day the captain caught himself wondering if he wasn't dreaming. The whole affair seemed too ridiculous to be an actual experience. Dinner over, he and Emmie attended to the dishes, he washing and she wiping. And even at this early stage of their acquaintance her disposition to take charge of things was apparent. She found fault with the dish towels; they were almost as bad as the tablecloth, she said. Considering that the same set had been in use since Mrs. Beasley's departure, the criticism was not altogether baseless. But the young lady did not stop there--her companion's skill as a washer was questioned.
"Excuse me," she said, "but don't you think that plate had better be done over? I guess you didn't see that place in the corner.
Perhaps you've forgot your specs. Auntie Oliver couldn't see well without her specs."Captain Cy grinned and admitted that a second washing wouldn't hurt the plate.
"I guess your auntie was one of the particular kind," he said.
"No, sir, 'twas mamma. She couldn't bear dirty things. Auntie used to say that mamma hunted dust with a magnifying glass. She didn't, though; she only liked to be neat. I guess dust doesn't worry men so much as it does women.""Why?"
"Oh, 'cause there's so much of it here; don't you think so? I'll help you clean up by and by, if you want to.""YOU will?"
"Yes, sir. I used to dust sometimes when mamma was out sewing.
And once I swept, but I did it so hard that auntie wouldn't let me any more. She said 'twas like trying to blow out a match with a tornado."Later on he found her standing in the sitting room, critically inspecting the mats, the furniture, and the pictures on the walls.
He stood watching her for a moment and then asked:
"Well, what are you lookin' for--more dust? 'Twon't be hard to find it. 'Dust thou art and unto dust thou shalt return.' Every time I go outdoor and come in again I realize how true that is."Emily shook her head.
"No, sir," she said; "I was only looking at things and thinking.""Thinkin', hey? What about? or is that a secret?""No, sir. I was thinking that this room was different from any I've ever seen.""Humph! Yes, I presume likely 'tis. Don't like it very much, do you?""Yes, sir, I think I do. It's got a good many things in it that Inever saw before, but I guess they're pretty--after you get used to 'em."Captain Cy laughed aloud. "After you get used to 'em, hey?" he repeated.
"Yes, sir. That's what mamma said about Auntie Oliver's new bonnet that she made herself. I--I was thinking that you must be peculiar.""Peculiar?"
"Yes, sir. I like peculiar people. I'm peculiar myself. Auntie used to say I was the most peculiar child she ever saw. P'raps that's why I came to you. P'raps God meant for peculiar ones to live together. Don't you think maybe that was it?"And the captain, having no answer ready, said nothing.
That evening when Asaph and Bailey, coming for their usual call, peeped in at the window, they were astounded by the tableau in the Whittaker sitting room. Captain Cy was seated in the rocking chair which had been his grandfather's. At his feet, on the walnut cricket with a haircloth top, sat a little girl turning over the leaves of a tattered magazine, a Godey's Lady's Book. A pile of these magazines was beside her on the floor. The captain was smiling and looking over her shoulder. The cat was curled up in another chair. The room looked more homelike than it had since its owner returned to it.
The friends entered without knocking. Captain Cy looked up, saw them, and appeared embarrassed.
"Hello, boys!" he said. "Glad to see you. Come right in. Clearin' off fine, ain't it?"
Mr. Tidditt replied absently that he wouldn't be surprised if it was. Bailey, his eyes fixed upon the occupant of the cricket, said nothing.
