“Pearl,” replied Mr. Boxer, with the air of a resentful witness under cross-examination.
“And what was the name o’ the captin?” said Mrs. Gimpson.
“Thomas—Henery—Walter—Smith,” said Mr. Boxer, with somewhat unpleasant emphasis.
“An’ the mate’s name?”
“John Brown,” was the reply.
“Common names,” commented Mrs. Gimpson, “very common. But I knew you’d come back all right—I never ’ad no alarm. ‘He’s safe and happy, my dear,’ I says. ‘He’ll come back all in his own good time.’”
“What d’you mean by that?” demanded the sensitive Mr. Boxer. “I come back as soon as I could.”
“You know you were anxious, mother,” interposed her daughter. “Why, you insisted upon our going to see old Mr. Silver about it.”
“Ah! but I wasn’t uneasy or anxious afterwards,” said Mrs. Gimpson, compressing her lips.
“Who’s old Mr. Silver, and what should he know about it?” inquired Mr. Boxer.