“Oh, she doesn't say much. I wouldn't wonder if she felt the way I do, though we both keep quiet. I'll tell you, between ourselves and the ship's pump, that I sort of glory in the young chap's spunk.”
“Good! So do I. I like him.”
“See here, Keziah! I'm gettin' frightened. You ain't settin' your cap to be a parson's wife, are you? Because—”
“Don't be silly. I might adopt him, but that's all, I guess.”
Her friend leaned forward.
“Keziah,” he said earnestly, “there's no sense in your slavin' yourself to death here. I can think of a good deal pleasanter berth than that. Pleasanter for me, anyhow, and I'd do my best to make it pleasant for you. You've only got to say the word and—No? Well, then all I can do is hope through another voyage.”
“Please don't, Nat. You know.”
“No, I don't know.”
“Well, perhaps you don't. But I know. I like you, Nat. I count on you as the straightest, truest friend I've got; and I want to keep on countin' on you just that way. Mayn't I?”
“'Course you can, Keziah. But—”