"All in good time," returned my aunt. Then to me: "So you have never married, sweetheart?"
"No, dear aunt," I answered, feeling my cheeks grow red.
"We must find her a husband somewhere," said Mynheer Van Alstine. "It will never do to leave so fine a maid to comb St. Catherine's hair, as they say in France."
"All in good time," repeated my uncle, smiling.
"Loveday is not so old or so foul-favored but she can afford to wait a while to comfort her poor old uncle. What, sweetheart—wilt thou live single for my sake, since my own girls have been carried away captive by these piratical Dutchmen?"
"I desire no better fate," said I.
Whereat he laughed, and addressing himself to his son-in-law, he began to ask about his captivity among the Barbary Moors.
"So they were not unkind to you?"
"Nay, they treated me well enough so soon as they found out I was no Spaniard," answered the gentleman. "They hate the Spaniards, and with good reason."
"I wonder who doth not," said mine uncle, under his breath.