“Goodness gracious me!” exclaimed my mother, almost jumping out of her chair at the unexpected report and making me jump, too, by her hurried movement towards the window where I stood, “what is the matter, Jack?”
“Nothing to be alarmed about, my dear,” said Dad soothingly to her. “It is only the admiral tumbled down the hatchway.”
“Dear, dear,” replied poor mother in a voice full of the deepest sympathy, “I hope the old gentleman has not hurt himself much. He must have fallen rather heavily!”
Dad roared with laughter at her innocent mistake.
“You’ll kill me some day, I think, my dear,” said he when he was able to speak, after having his laugh out. “I only used an old nautical expression which you must have heard before, I’m sure. We always say that on board ship when the nine-o’clock gun is fired!”
“Oh!” rejoined mother, a little bit crossly at being made fun of. “I do wish, Frank, you would explain what you mean next time beforehand, instead of puzzling people with your old sailor talk, which nobody can understand!”
“Humph!” said Dad; but, presently, I saw mother put out her hand and tenderly touch him on the shoulder, as if to tell him that her temporary tiff had been dispelled, like the smoke from the discharge of the Victory’s last gun, whereat I could hear him whisper under his breath as he kissed her cheek softly, “All’s well that ends well, my dear!”