"Eh! what? Marry?"
The captain looked, if possible, more amazed than his sister for a second or two, then his red face relaxed into a broad grin, and he sat down on a chair and chuckled, wiping the perspiration (he seemed always more or less in a state of perspiration) from his bald head the while.
"Why, no, sister, I'm not going to marry; did I speak of marryin'?"
"No; but you spoke of being tired of a bachelor life, and wishing to change."
"Ah! you women," said the captain, shaking his head—"always suspecting that we poor men are wantin' to marry you. Well, pr'aps you ain't far wrong neither; but I'm not goin' to be spliced yet-a-while, lass. Marry, indeed!
'Shall I, wastin' in despair,
Die, 'cause why? a woman's rare?'"
"Oh! Captain Ogilvy, that's not rightly quoted," cried Minnie, with a merry laugh.
"Ain't it?" said the captain, somewhat put out; for he did not like to have his powers of memory doubted.
"No; surely women are not rare," said Minnie.
"Good ones are," said the captain stoutly.