“Mebbe, sir,” said the man, shaking his head slowly; “but old women is old, and the elders do grow wise.”
“Sometimes, Tom,” said Murray, laughing, “and a wise old woman is worth listening to; but you can’t say that for a man who talks like a foolish old woman and believes in all kinds of superstitious nonsense.”
“No, sir: of course not, sir,” said the man solemnly; “but there is things, you know.”
“Oh yes, I do know that, Tom—such as setting sail with a black cat on board.”
“Oh, well, sir, come!” protested the sailor warmly. “You can’t say as a man’s a hidjit for believing that. Something always happens if you do that.”
“I could say so, Tom,” replied the middy, “but I’m not going to.”
“Well, sir, begging your pardon as gentleman, I’m werry sorry for it; but there, you’re very young.”
“Go on, Tom.”
“That’s all, sir. I warn’t going to say no more.”
“But you are thinking a deal more. That was as good as saying that I’m very young and don’t know any better.”