"Perfectly well, only very weak."
"Does your head ache now, Frank?" asked Mary, laying her soft hand upon my forehead.
"Not a bit, only I've got most confounded sore hair."
"Eh! my lad, they talked of leaving you no hair at all," cried Bill, "they thought one spell of shaving your head. Egad! you'd have looked like a bald eagle!"
"Why, what has been the matter with me?" I asked.
"Matter with you! why, man, you have had the yellowest kind of a fever. Touch and go, it was; but you're worth ten dead men this morning."
Ellen during this conversation had left the room, and now returned with her father and the physician, who had called with Captain Smith. I was pronounced in a fair way of speedy recovery. Everybody was very glad, but I noticed that Ellen said nothing; indeed, instead of being overjoyed like my good skipper or Langley, she had to wipe the tears from her eyes.
"Frank," said Langley, when I was finally left alone with that worthy gentleman, "how little Nell did pipe her eye the other night, when we were all so fearful you were going to slip your wind; and just between you and I and the main-mast, I'm walking into her sister's young affections just as the monkey went up the back-stay, hand over hand. Prehaps she aint a darling. I've been writing a piece of poetry about her, don't you want to hear it?"
"Oh! be off with your nonsense—I wish to go to sleep."
"Well, go to sleep, and be—cured, you unfeeling wretch;" and Mr. Langley, in a huff, walked out on the verandah, and began to smoke.