man yet,
I hope. In half an hour I must be off. There will be good time for
a pipe. One more pipe in the old home, Tilly. After all I am well
contented with it, although now and then I grumble; and I don't like so
much cleaning."

"The cleaning must be done; I could never leave off that. Your room is
going to be turned out to-morrow, and before you go you must put away
your papers, unless you wish me to do it. You really never seem to
understand when things are really important. Do you wish me to have
a great fever in the house? It is a fortnight since your boards were
scrubbed; and how can you think of smoking?"

"Very well, Tilly, I can have it by-and-by, 'upon the dancing waves,' as
little Tommy has picked up the song. Only I can not let the men on duty;
and to see them longing destroys my pleasure. Lord, how many times I
should like to pass my pipe to Dick, or Ellis, if discipline allowed of
it! A thing of that sort is not like feeding, which must be kept apart
by nature; but this by custom only."

"And a very good custom, and most needful," answered Mrs. Carroway. "I
never can see why men should want to do all sorts of foolish things with
tobacco--dirty stuff, and full of dust. No sooner do they begin, like a
tinder-box, than one would think that it made them all alike. They want
to see another body puffing two great streams of reeking smoke from
pipe and from mouth, as if their own was not enough; and their good
resolutions to speak truth of one another float away like so much smoke;
and they fill themselves with bad charity. Sir Walter Raleigh deserved
his head off, and Henry the Eighth knew what was right."

"My dear, I fancy that your history is wrong. The king only chopped off
his own wives' heads. But the moral of the lesson is the same. I will
go and put away my papers. It will very soon be dark enough for us to
start."

"Charles, I can not bear your going. The weather is so dark, and the sea
so lonely, and the waves are making such a melancholy sound. It is not
like the summer nights, when I can see you six miles off, with the moon
upon the sails, and the land out of the way. Let anybody catch him that
has the luck. Don't go this time, Charley."

Carroway kissed his wife, and sent her to the baby, who was squalling
well up stairs. And when she came down he was ready to start, and she
brought the baby for him to kiss.

"Good-by, little chap--good-by, dear wife." With his usual vigor and
flourish, he