Captain Dan looked very grave.

"I guess you're right, Serena," he admitted. "I ain't much good, I'm
afraid."

Mrs. Dott's expression changed. She rose, walked over, and kissed him.
"You're too good, that's the main trouble with you," she said. "Well, I
won't scold any more. I'm glad we've got the three thousand anyway--and
the tea-pot."

"It's a lovely tea-pot, all engravin' and everything. And the
sugar-bowl's almost as pretty. You'll like 'em, Serena."

"Yes, I'll love 'em, I don't doubt. You and I can look at them and think
of that cousin of Aunt Lavinia's spending the rest of her fortune. No
wonder she didn't leave him the tea-pot; precious little tea he
drinks, if stories we hear are true. Well, there's one good thing about
it--Gertie can keep on with her college. This is her last year."

"Yes; I thought of that. I thought of a million things when I was racin'
across the yard with this letter. Say, Serena, you've never told Gertie
anything about how trade was or how hard-up we've been?"

"Of course not."

"No, I knew you wouldn't. She's such a conscientious girl; if she
thought we couldn't afford it she wouldn't think of keepin' on with that
college, and I've set my heart on her havin' the best start in life we
can give her."