, captain."

"Look a' here, major," said he, desperately, "what makes you so took up
with that 'ere monotonous tune in thar? I'm afeered I may 'a' misled
ye, times past, with regards to female grass." He coughed again and
lit his pipe. I waited.

"'Specially," he groaned, "some things I may h've said with regards to
red and white clover."

Still I waited.

"Look a' here, major, when anybody sets down 'n' admires to sech a
monotonous tune as that in thar, thar's somethin' the matter with 'em."

Still I would not speak. Tears almost were in his eyes.

"Now I may h've said some things on partickaler pesterin' 'casions in
times past, but in general my verdick--hohum!--is fav'rable to female
grass; 'specially--hohum! hohum!--wal, wal, ye knows my meanin',
major--'specially with regards to red and white clover: hohum! how 's
Vesty?"

The captain gave a sigh that would have exculpated him from the gravest
of crimes, and looked steadfastly toward the west.

"I haven't seen her to-day."

"Ye'll think it over, won't ye, major?" said he, still with that far
withdrawn vision.

"Well, yes; I'll think it over."

I had proceeded but a little way when he called me back.

"I had it on my mind to tell ye," said he, "when I heered 't ye'd been
'nvited down t' Aunt Gozeman's and Aunt Electry's t' tea; ef they give
ye some o' their green melon an' ginger persarves, do ye manage to
bestow 'em somewhar's without eatin' of 'em, somehow. They're amazin'
proud an' ch'ice of 'em, an' ye don't want to hurt their feelin's, but
ye'd better shove 'em right outer the sasser inter yer britches pocket
'n eat 'em--leastways that 's the way they 'fected me."

Visions of a past mortal suffering flitted across Captain Pharo's face.

"I'll try," I said.

"Ef thar 's melon an' ginger persarves settin' by yer plate, d'ye ask
them two old women, in some kind of genteel s'ciety ructions sort o' a
way, ter go outer the room an' git ye somethin', an' soon 's they've
gone d'ye jump up an' thring a shawl over that darn' parrot o' theirn
't stands there noticin' 'an' swearin', an' chuck 'em in over behind
the wood-box or somewhar's, but don't eat 'em."

"All right," I said, as he shook my hand with suggestive earnestness
once more in parting.

The sisters, by mutual adoption, not by birth, lived together in the
"Laury Gleeson;" the sign of a wrecked schooner nailed up over their
shanty door.

"And why not? We be all a-sailin', been't we?