“Hut, Moses!” I maintained; “she’ll do very well. Jus’ look at her!”
“Mother always ’lowed,” says he, “that a craft was like a woman. An’ since mother died, I’ve come t’ learn for myself, Dannie,” he drawled, “that the more a woman haves in the way o’ looks the less weather she’ll stand. I’ve jus’ come, now,” says he, “from overhaulin’ a likely maid at Chain Tickle.”
I looked up with interest.
“Jinny Lawless,” says he. “Ol’ Skipper Garge’s youngest by the third.”
My glance was still inquiring.
“Ay, Dannie,” he sighed; “she’ve declined.”
“You’ve took a look,” I inquired, “at the maids o’ Long Bill Hodge o’ Sampson’s Island?”
He nodded.
“An’ they’ve––”
“All declined,” says he.