“Ha! ha! That is the way to speak to her, Mr. Dodd; the other gentlemen spoil her.”
“It was very unbecoming of me to speak to her harshly like that.”
“Pooh! nonsense; these girls like to be ordered about; it saves them the trouble of thinking for themselves; but what is to become of me? You have sent off my workwoman.”
“I will do her work for her.”
“What! can you sew?”
“Where is the sailor that can't sew?”
“Delightful! Then please to sew these two thick ends together. Here is a large needle.”
David whipped out of his pocket a round piece of leather with strings attached, and fastened it to the hollow of his hand.
“What is that?”
“It is a sailor's thimble.” He took the work, held it neatly, and shoved the needle from behind through the thick material. He worked slowly and uncouthly, but with the precision that was a part of his character, and made exact and strong stitches. His task-mistress looked on, and, under the pretense of minute inspection, brought a face that was still arch and pretty unnecessarily close to the marine milliner, in which attitude they were surprised by Mr. Bazalgette, who, having come in through the open folding-doors, stood looking mighty sardonic at them both before they were even aware he was in the room.