"Grandfather!" interrupted Dorothy, promptly, emulating her lover's blush.
"And I want to marry her, sir, with your permission."
"Marry her!" shouted Captain Venour. "On the pay of a midshipman! You young——"
"I'm a passed midshipman now, sir," interrupted Maurice, "and I'm sure to be a lieutenant when I come back from this cruise to the West Indies,—and she says she loves me and that she will wait; didn't you, Dot?"
"Miss Venour, sir!" roared the old man, "in my presence! Did you make any foolish promises to this young man, Dorothy?"
"I—ye—es, sir; I said I—I'd—I'd wait," answered Dorothy, reluctantly.
"Yes? Well, you will; you'll wait until he gets to be a captain. A man isn't fit to be married until he has had command of a ship and three or four hundred men; he doesn't know how to manage a wife. Look at me! I married when I was a midshipman and—and—I know."
"But, sir, it will be fifteen years before I am a captain! Why, you weren't a captain yourself until you were forty, and I can never hope to equal your record."
"No more you won't," said the old man, somewhat mollified by the adroit compliment.
"Oh, grandfather, not forty years! We couldn't wait until then! Why, I'm only seventeen now, sir, and James—Mr. Maurice—is only nineteen. Please, sir——"