“It's their nature,” said Captain Buckingham at length. “They're made that way.”
“You don't mean it!”
“The best thing for 'em is hotel keeping.”
“Eh!”
“Nothing like it, you can take my word. 'Pemberton's Hotel. Pemberton and Buckingham, Owners and Proprietors. B. Corliss, Manager. Peace, Propriety, and Patronage.' Aye, that's it. They get restless. If they elopes, let 'em keep a hotel. Nothing like it.”
“Whew, whew!” whistled Andrew McCulloch. “But they've gone!” he says. “See here! How you going to catch 'em? How you going to set 'em to hotel keeping when they elope off your hands? Where've they gone? That's the point. Where've they gone?”
“Up,” said Uncle Abimelech.
“Eh!”
“Connubilated,” said Uncle Abimelech, pointing. “Gone up.”
“Prayed over fifteen minutes,” said Stevey Todd, “which I wouldn't so state without watching the clock.”