"I don't know, sir. I heard what you said when Lonesome ate up the steak, and I thought maybe you hadn't been for a long time. Iguess churches are different in South America."So they went to church and sat in the old Whittaker pew. The captain had been there once before when he first returned to Bayport, but the sermon was more somnolent than edifying, and he hadn't repeated the experiment. The pair attracted much attention.
Fragments of a conversation, heard by Captain Cy as they emerged into the vestibule, had momentous consequences.
"Kind of a pretty child, ain't she?" commented Mrs. Eben Salters, patting her false front into place under the eaves of her Sunday bonnet.
"Pretty enough in the face," sniffed Mrs. "Tad" Simpson, who was wearing her black silk for the first time since its third making-over. "Pretty enough that way, I s'pose. But, my land! look at the way she's rigged. Old dress, darned and patched up and all outgrown! If I had Cy Whittaker's money I'd be ashamed to have a relation of mine come to meetin' that way. Even if her folks was poorer'n Job's off ox I'd spend a little on my own account and trust to getting it back some time. I'd have more care for my own self-respect. Look at Alicia Atkins. See how nice she looks.
Them feathers on her hat must have cost somethin', I bet you.
Howdy do, 'Licia, dear? When's your pa comin' home?"The Honorable Heman had left town on a business trip to the South.
Alicia was accompanied by the Atkins housekeeper and, as usual, was garbed regardless of expense.
Mrs. Salters smiled sweetly upon the Atkins heir and then added, in a church whisper: "Don't she look sweet? I agree with you, Sarah;it is strange how Captain Whittaker lets his little niece go. And him rich!""Niece?" repeated Mrs. Simpson eagerly. "Who said 'twas his niece?
I heard 'twas a child he'd adopted out of a home. There's all sorts of queer yarns about. I-- Oh, good mornin', Cap'n Cyrus!
How DO you do?"
The captain grunted an answer to the effect that he was bearing up pretty well, considering. There was a scowl on his face, and he spoke little as, holding Emily by the hand, he led the way home.
That evening he dropped in at the perfect boarding house and begged to know if Mrs. Bangs had any "fashion books" around that she didn't want.
"I mean--er--er--magazines with pictures of women's duds in 'em,"he stammered, in explanation. "Bos'n likes to look at 'em. She's great on fashion books, Bos'n is."Keturah got together a half dozen numbers of the Home Dressmaker and other periodicals of a similar nature. The captain took them under his arm and departed, whispering to Mr. Tidditt, as he passed the latter in the hall:
"Come up by and by, Ase. I want to talk to you. Bring Bailey along, if you can do it without startin' divorce proceedings."Later, when the trio gathered in the Whittaker sitting room, Captain Cy produced the "fashion books" and spoke concerning them.
"You see," he said, "I--I've been thinkin' that Bos'n--Emily, that is--wan't rigged exactly the way she ought to be. Have you fellers noticed it?"His friends seemed surprised. Neither was ready with an immediate answer, so the captain went on.
"Course I don't mean she ain't got canvas enough to cover her spars," he explained; "but what she has got has seen consider'ble weather, and it seemed to me 'twas pretty nigh time to haul her into dry dock and refit. That's why I borrowed these magazines of Ketury. I've been lookin' them over and there seems to be plenty of riggin' for small craft; the only thing is I don't know what's the right cut for her build. Bailey, you're a married man; you ought to know somethin' about women's clothes. What do you think of this, now?"He opened one of the magazines and pointed to the picture of a young girl, with a waspy waist and Lilliputian feet, who, arrayed in flounces and furbelows, was toddling gingerly down a flight of marble steps. She carried a parasol in one hand, and the other held the end of a chain to which a long-haired dog was attached.
The town clerk and his companion inspected the young lady with deliberation and interest.
"Well, what do you say?" demanded Captain Cy.
"I don't care much for them kind of dogs," observed Asaph thoughtfully.
"Good land! you don't s'pose they heave the dog in with the clothes, for good measure, do you? Bailey, what's your opinion?"Mr. Bangs looked wise.
"I should say--" he said, "yes, sir, I should say that was a real stylish rig-out. Only thing is, that girl is consider'ble less fleshy than Emily. This one looks to me as if she was breakin' in two amidships. Still, I s'pose likely the duds don't come ready made, so they could be let out some, to fit. What's the price of a suit like that, Whit?"The captain looked at the printed number beneath the fashion plate and then turned to the description in the text.
"'Afternoon gown for miss of sixteen,'" he read. "Humph! that settles that, first crack. Bos'n ain't but half of sixteen.""Anyway," put in Asaph, "you need somethin' she could wear forenoons, if she wanted to. What's this one? She looks young enough."The "one" referred to turned out to be a "coat for child of four."It was therefore scornfully rejected. One after another the different magazines were examined and the pictures discussed. At length a "costume for miss of eight years" was pronounced to be pretty nearly the thing.
"Godfrey scissors!" exclaimed the admiring Mr. Tidditt. "That's mighty swell, ain't it? What's the stuff goes into that, Cy?""'Material, batiste, trimmed with embroidered batiste.' What in time is batiste?""I don't know. Do you, Bailey?"
"No; never heard of it. Ketury never had nothin' like that, I'm sure. French, I shouldn't wonder. Well, Ketury's down on the French ever sence she read about Napoleon leavin' his fust wife to take up with another woman. Does it say any more?""Let's see. 'Makes a beautiful gown for evening or summer wear.'
