“Wasn’t you sayin’ so, dad?”
“Well,” the skipper admitted, “havin’ said so, I’ll not gainsay it. I was wonderin’——”
“An’ you knowin’,” sighed Timmie, “that you’re an obligin’ man!”
“Dad,” Jacky demanded, “didn’t the Lard kindly send a switch o’ wind from the sou’east t’ save you oncet?”
“Does you think,” Timmie pursued, “that He’ll turn His hand again t’ save you?”
“Well——”
“Look you, dad,” said Jacky, “isn’t you got in trouble enough all along o’ wonderin’ too much?”
“Well,” the skipper exclaimed, badgered into self-assertion, “I was wonderin’; but since you two lads come in I been thinkin’. Since them two twins o’ mine come in, Davy,” he repeated, turning to me, his eyes sparkling with fatherly affection, “I been thinkin’ ’twould be a fine plan t’ tack this letter t’ the wall for a warnin’ t’ the household agin the wiles o’ women!”
Timmie and Jacky silently embraced—containing their delight as best they could, though it pained them.