"Fiddlesticks!" said the jolly Captain, snapping his fingers. "I know what young men are. A gay dashing lad, I suppose, whose hot blood and youthful frolics old maiden ladies construe into the most awful crimes."
"Old maiden ladies, sir! Pray whom do you mean to insult by that gross appellation?"
"Gross! I always thought that maiden was a term that implied virgin innocence and purity, whether addressed to the blithe lass of sixteen, or the antiquated spinster of forty," returned the provoking sailor, with a knowing glance.
"I hate your vulgar insinuations," said Miss Dorothy, her sharp nose flushing to a deep red. "But how can one expect politeness from a sea monster?"
"Ha! ha! ha!" shouted the Captain. "Never mind, Dolly, don't give way to temper, and curl up that bowsprit of yours with such a confounded ugly twist. There may be a chance yet. Let me see. I don't think that you are fifty-four. My nurse, Betty Holt, was called an old maid for thirty years, and married at last."
"I wonder, brother, that you are not ashamed of naming me and that low-born person in the same breath. As to matrimony, I despise the male sex too much to degrade myself by entering upon it."
"It would have sweetened your temper amazingly," said the Captain, re-filling his pipe. "I believe, Dorothy, you were never put to the trial?"
"You know that I refused at least a dozen offers."
"Whew! I never heard a word about them before."
Miss Dorothy knew that she was telling a great fib; and she drew herself up with increased dignity. "You were at sea, sir."