The withering look of scorn that Perez bent upon him caused him to hesitate and stop. Captain Perez haughtily marched to the door.
“Eri,” he said, “I ain't goin' to waste my time talkin' to a—a dogfish like him. He ain't wuth it.”
“Hold on, now, Perez!” pleaded the discomfited sacrifice, alarmed at his comrade's threatened desertion. “I was only foolin'. Can't you take a joke? I haven't said I wouldn't do it. I think a heap of Mrs. Snow; it's only that I ain't got the spunk to ask her, that's all.”
“Humph! it don't take much spunk,” replied the successful wooer, forgetful of his own past trepidation.
“Well,” Captain Jerry wriggled and twisted, but saw no loophole. “Well, give me a month to git up my courage in and—”
“A month! A month's ridic'lous; ain't it, Eri”
“Yes.”
“Well, three weeks, then.”
This offer, too, was rejected. Then Captain Jerry held out for a fortnight—for ten days. Finally, it was settled that within one week from that very night he was to offer his heart and hand to the lady from Nantucket. He pledged his solemn word to do it.
“There!” exclaimed the gratified Captain Perez. “That's a good job done. He won't never be sorry for it, will he, Eri?”