“Weel, weel, I ha’e my ain doubts as to your fitness for sic a voyage in your weak state; but I’ll e’en jist let ye pass. Are you married or single?”
“Married.”
“An’ the gudeman?——”
“Is on deck with the captain. He will be here presently.”
“Ha’e ye ony bairns?”
Flora pointed, with a feeling of maternal pride, to the little Josey, who was sleeping upon Hannah’s knees,—a lovely picture of healthy, happy infancy.
“Ay, she’s bonnie,” cried the kind Doctor, taking one of the tiny alabaster fingers of the babe in his red, rough hand. “Sma’ need o’ a dochter in her case. An’ wha’s this woman?” touching Hannah’s shoulder with his forefinger.
“My nurse-girl.”
“A married woman?”
“No, Sir.”