“Mrs. Banks is looking for you,” he said, as he followed him into the parlour.
Captain Barber turned on him a weary eye, but made no reply.
“And Mrs. Church, too; at least, I think so,’ continued the other.
“Cap’n Nibletts,” said the old man, slowly, “I ’ope you’ll never live long enough to be run arter in the way I’m run arter.”
The astonished mariner murmured humbly that he didn’t think it was at all likely, and also that Mrs. Nibletts would probably have a word or two to say in the matter.
“From the moment I get up to the moment I get to bed, I’m run arter,” continued the hapless Barber. “Mrs. Church won’t let me go out of ’er sight if she can help it, and Mrs. Banks is as bad as she is. While they was saying nice things to each other this morning in a nasty way I managed to slip out.”
“Well, why not get rid o’ Mrs. Church?” said the simple Nibletts.
“Rid o’ Mrs. Church!” repeated Captain Barber, aghast; “why don’t you get rid o’ your face, Nibletts?” he asked, by way of comparison merely.
“Because I don’t want to,” replied the other, flushing.
“Because you can’t” said Captain Barber, emphatically. “And no more can’t I get rid of ’er. You see, I ’appened to take a little notice of ’er.”