"Wheu!" ejaculated the sailor, picking up a bit of shingle from the ground, and searching for a jackknife which jingled against the silver crown in his pocket, "getting riley, now, ain't you?"
The fellow's imperturbability was so comical that no resentment could withstand it. The stranger's face cleared up, and he watched his companion with disdainful curiosity, who began whittling his shingle as he walked along.
"Goody Brown isn't your nigh relation, then," he persisted, whittling on with infinite composure; "cousin to your par or mar, mebby?"
"Goody Brown is nothing to me, understand that!" cried the stranger, at last harrassed into submission; "but I am weary of salt food, and want a draught of fresh milk. This is the nearest farm-house, you tell me; so I ask you to lead me there."
"And you don't want to see the lady?"
"No!"
"And she ain't nothing particular to you?"
"Nothing in any way."
"Well, now, I never did! Why couldn't you say so, to once?" cried the man, in a tone of plaintive reproach. "What is the use of taking so many bites of a cherry I want ter know?"
"Is that the farm-house?" inquired the stranger, pointing to the low stone dwelling sheltered in noble trees that overlooked the harbor.