"Ye're verra generous, but it's no' the job I'm speerin' after."
"All right, you can give us a wedding present then."
"Eh! Weel, mebbe I'd be ye'r best mon gin ye were marrit."
"Half a mo, Mac," said the second-mate, as the engineer made another attempt to escape. "You don't think there's any one else in the runnin', do you?"
"It's a verra deeficult question tae answer," replied McPhulach.
"How d'you mean?"
"There is an' there isna'."
"What the devil are you driving at?"
"I mean that she's wishfu' tae marry the skeeper, an' he's no wishfu' tae be marrit."
"Crikey!" ejaculated Smith, the look of pleasurable anticipation dying out of his face. "Who told you that?"