The captain shook his head, and exchanging greetings with a couple of neighbours, ordered something to drink.
“It’s wonderful how you bear up, I’m sure,” said the landlady. “When my poor dear died I cried every day for five weeks. I came down to skin and bone almost.”
“Well, if I was you—” said the old man, irritably, and regarding the lady’s ample proportions with an unfavourable eye.
“What?” enquired the other, pausing with her fingers on the whisky-tap.
“If I was you,” repeated Captain Barber, slowly, in order to give time for full measure, “I should go an’ cry for five months all day and all night.”
The landlady put the glass in front of him sharply, and after giving him his change without looking at him, thoughtfully wiped down the counter.
“Mrs. Church quite well?” she enquired, with studied artlessness.
“Quite well,” replied the captain, scenting danger.
The landlady, smiling amiably, subsided into a comfortable Windsor-chair, and shook her head at him so severely that, against his better sense, he felt compelled to demand an explanation.
“There, there,” replied the landlady, “get along with you, do! Innocence!”