“Then, you will speak to him?” she asked eagerly.
“We’ll see, Eadie. Maybe I’ll do something, 88 too. But I cal’late we’d best begin as Scripture says, right here at home.”
“You mean you’ll speak to Harry? What will you say?”
“I ain’t got it all figured out yet being as we’re camped on this here sand-heap. If I was aboard ship I’d kick him down the deck and up again, then into the hatches for a little tonic for disobeying orders. Beyond that, I ain’t able to say right offhand.”
Mrs. Beaver clutched the back of a chair. “Oh, don’t hurt my Harry! He’s all I’ve got!”
“He ain’t wuth boasting about, Eadie. But being as he is all you’ve got in the way of earthly possession, and being as we’re on land, I cal’late I won’t do harm. But if I was you I’d steer him clear of these channels for a spell till I calm down a mite.”
“O dear! I’ve made a mistake coming to you, and I hoped you’d help me. I shouldn’t have told you!”
“We won’t argue that p’int.”
“Whatever shall I do!”
“The fust thing I’d do,”––suggested the 89 Captain, slowly nodding his head for emphasis,––“would be to use a little discipline on your fust mate.”