“Is it because you fear disgrace to your family name?”
“That’s it!” shouted the seaman, seizing the minister by the arms with a crushing grip. “I’ll tell you the hull miserable yarn some 261 day, when I get to the bottom of it. But keep your hands off now! Them’s orders!”
“And if I break them?”
“Then, by the Lord Harry, I’ll break–––” The Captain stopped abruptly. “Mack, what be you doing in Little River?”
Miss Pipkin had been disturbed by the noise, and now opened the study door. She looked alarmed. The swarthy face of the Captain was a sickly green where the white reflected through the deep tan.
“Of all things!” exclaimed the housekeeper. “I s’pose I should pity the two of you if you feel the way you look. But, for the lan’ sakes, Josiah, let go the minister’s arms this very minute. You’re crushing them.”
The Captain’s hands relaxed and fell limply to his sides. The tense muscles of his face eased into a silly grin.
“We was having a friendly little argument, hey, Mack?”
The minister assented.
“Then, I’d hate to see you in a real fight. Things must be going to your head, Josiah.”