The little captain put the questions,
'Ah! de aged señora not believe! De aged señora not have seen much of de world?'
Jenny had grasped her umbrella.
'Look here, my mannie,' she said, 'I'll gie ye a caution; dinna you refer to my age again, or I'll "aged-snorer" you. If ye get the weight o' my gingham on your shou'ders, ye'll think a coo has kick't ye—so mind.'
And the Spanish captain had slunk away very unlike a lion-hunter, but he never called Jenny old again.
To-night, however, even before we had gone below, 79 Jenny had given proofs that she was in an extra good temper, for being a little way behind Bombazo—as if impelled by some sudden and joyous impulse—she lifted that everlasting umbrella and hit him a friendly thwack that could be heard from bowsprit to binnacle.
'Tell as mony lees the nicht as ye like, my mannie,' she cried, 'and I'll never contradict ye, for I've seen the promised land!'
'And so, captain, you must stay at Rio a whole week?' said my aunt at dessert.
'Yes, Miss M'Crimman,' replied the captain. 'Are you pleased?'
'I'm delighted. And I propose that we get up a grand picnic in "the promised land," as good old Jenny calls it.'