Captain Dan's smile broadened.
“I made just as bad a one myself, once on a time,” he observed. “Just as bad, or worse—and I didn't know why either. There, John, you sit down. Come to anchor alongside here, and let's talk this thing over in comfort.”
Mr. Doane “came to anchor” on an empty packing case beside the desk. As he was tall and big, and the box was low and small, the “comfort” was doubtful. However, neither of the pair noticed this at the time.
“So you think you want Gertie, do you, John?” said the captain.
“I know it,” was the emphatic answer.
“So. And she thinks she wants you?”
“She says so.”
“Humph!” with a sidelong glance. “Think she means it?”
“I'm trying to believe she does.”
The tone in which this was uttered caused Captain Dan to chuckle. “'Tis strange, I'll give in,” he remarked, drily. “No accountin' for taste, is there—Well,” his gravity returning, “I suppose likely you realize that her mother and I think consider'ble of her.”