"You deserve it, Josh, you deserve it, though I've a doubt that you're a bit blind to some things."
"To what things, sir?"
"Gently my lad, gently. Plenty of time to talk."
The gravity of the Old Sailor was contagious, and Joshua felt that the good old fellow was about to say something which he deemed of importance.
"Where is Ellen, sir?"
"In the house with Mrs. Eliza. She is happy and comfortable, my lad; and when you and me have had our bit of talk, we will go in to her. She knows that we're together, and that we've got something to speak about. As you turned the street, she put her pretty head out of window there--you didn't know the house or you'd have seen her do it, like a true sailor as you are--and when she saw us together, she put her pretty head in again, satisfied. And you left everybody at home all right, eh? Grieving naturally to be sure, but otherways all right?"
"Yes, sir."
"Let us walk as we talk," said the Old Sailor, hooking his arm in Joshua's, and walking in the direction of the river. "Or we shall talk better in a boat, perhaps; Mrs. Eliza's husband shall paddle us about the while."
"But I should like to see Ellen just for one minute first.
"To begin your kissing, eh, my lad?" said the Old Sailor, with a roguish, laugh. "No, no; you'll have plenty of time for that. I'm in command now, and I'll have no mutineering, or I'll put you in irons. You'll not like them as well as Ellen's pretty arms." Notwithstanding the light nature of the Old Sailor's word's, Joshua detected a serious mood beneath them, and with a good grace he walked to the landing-place and stepped into the boat which Mrs. Eliza's husband held ready.