“Course I don't mean she ain't got canvas enough to cover her spars,” he explained; “but what she has got has seen consider'ble weather, and it seemed to me 'twas pretty nigh time to haul her into dry dock and refit. That's why I borrowed these magazines of Ketury. I've been lookin' them over and there seems to be plenty of riggin' for small craft; the only thing is I don't know what's the right cut for her build. Bailey, you're a married man; you ought to know somethin' about women's clothes. What do you think of this, now?”
He opened one of the magazines and pointed to the picture of a young girl, with a waspy waist and Lilliputian feet, who, arrayed in flounces and furbelows, was toddling gingerly down a flight of marble steps. She carried a parasol in one hand, and the other held the end of a chain to which a long-haired dog was attached.
The town clerk and his companion inspected the young lady with deliberation and interest.
“Well, what do you say?” demanded Captain Cy.
“I don't care much for them kind of dogs,” observed Asaph thoughtfully.
“Good land! you don't s'pose they heave the dog in with the clothes, for good measure, do you? Bailey, what's your opinion?”
Mr. Bangs looked wise.
“I should say—” he said, “yes, sir, I should say that was a real stylish rig-out. Only thing is, that girl is consider'ble less fleshy than Emily. This one looks to me as if she was breakin' in two amidships. Still, I s'pose likely the duds don't come ready made, so they could be let out some, to fit. What's the price of a suit like that, Whit?”
The captain looked at the printed number beneath the fashion plate and then turned to the description in the text.
“'Afternoon gown for miss of sixteen,'” he read. “Humph! that settles that, first crack. Bos'n ain't but half of sixteen.”