urse not," assented the captain, "it could not be `funny' nohow,
because `funny' don't rhyme with `despair;' besides, lots o' women ain't
funny a bit, an' if they was, that's no reason why a man should die for
'em; what _is_ the word, lass?"

"What am _I_?" asked Minnie, with an arch smile, as she passed her
fingers through the clustering masses of her beautiful hair.

"An angel, beyond all doubt," said the gallant captain, with a burst of
sincerity which caused Minnie to blush and then to laugh.

"You're incorrigible, captain, and you are so stupid that it's of no use
trying to teach you."

Mrs Brand--who listened to this conversation with an expression of deep
anxiety on her meek face, for she could not get rid of her first idea
that her brother was going to marry--here broke in with the question--

"When is it to be, brother?"

"When is what to be, sister?"

"The--the marriage."

"I tell you I _ain't_ a-goin' to marry," repeated the captain; "though
why a stout young feller like me, just turned sixty-four, _shouldn't_
marry, is more than I can see. You know the old proverbs, lass--`It's
never too late to marry;' `Never ventur', never give in;' `John Anderson
my jo John, when we was first--first--'"

"Married," suggested Minnie.

"Just so," responded the captain, "and everybody knows that _he_ was an
old man. But no, I'm not goin' to marry; I'm only goin' to give up my
house, sell off the furniture, and come and live with _you_."

"Live with me!" ejaculated Mrs Brand.

"Ay, an' why not? What's the use o' goin' to the expense of two houses
when one'll do, an' when we're both raither scrimp o' the ready? You'll
just let me have the parlour. It never was a comf'rable room to sit in,
so it don't matter much your givin' it up; it's a good enough sleepin'
and smokin' cabin, an' we'll all live together in the kitchen. I'll
throw the whole of my treemendous income into the general purse, always
exceptin' a few odd coppers, which I'll retain to keep me a-goin' in
baccy. We'll sail under the same flag, an' sit round the same fire, an'
sup at the same table, and sleep in the same--no, not exactly that, but
under the same roof-tree, which'll be a more hoconomical way o' doin'
business, you know; an' so, old girl, as the song says--

"`Come an' let us be happy together,
For where there's a will there's a way,
An' we won't care a rap for the weather
So long as there's nothin' to pay.'"

"Would it no