Ailie pursed her mouth, and looked at her father earnestly, while she seemed to struggle to give utterance to some fleeting idea.
“Think,” she said quickly, “think something good as much as ever you can. Have you thought?”
“Yes,” answered the captain, smiling.
“Then,” continued Ailie, “its twenty thousand million times as much as that, and a great deal more!”
The laugh with which Captain Dunning received this curious explanation of how much his little daughter wished to go with him to the whale-fishery, was interrupted by the entrance of his sisters, whose sense of propriety induced them to keep all visitors waiting at least a quarter of an hour before they appeared, lest they should be charged with unbecoming precipitancy.
“Here you are, lassies; how are ye?” cried the captain as he rose and kissed each lady on the cheek heartily.
The sisters did not remonstrate. They knew that their brother was past hope in this respect, and they loved him, so they suffered it meekly.
Having admitted that they were well—as well, at least, as could be expected, considering the cataract of “trials” that perpetually descended upon their devoted heads—they sat down as primly as if their visitor were a perfect stranger, and entered into a somewhat lengthened conversation as to the intended voyage, commencing, of course, with the weather.
“And now,” said the captain, rubbing the crown of his straw hat in a circular manner, as if it were a beaver, “I’m coming to the point.”
Both ladies exclaimed, “What point, George?” simultaneously, and regarded the captain with a look of anxious surprise.