"Whisht, now. I say young people will have their laugh and their joke at a foolish old man; and who is to prevent them? Not me. But I'll tell ye what: ye may have your sport of me, on one condition."
He patted her once or twice on the shoulder, just as if she was a child.
"And the condition is this, my lass—that ye have the wedding at Denny-mains."
CHAPTER XIV.
THE EQUINOCTIALS AT LAST.
There was no dreaming of weddings at Denny-mains, or elsewhere, for some of us that night. It had been blowing pretty hard when we turned in; but towards two or three o'clock the wind increased to half a gale, while heavy showers kept rattling along the decks. Then there were other sounds. One of the men was heard to clamber up the iron ladder of the forecastle; and as soon as he had put his head out, his contented exclamation was, "Oh, ferry well; go on!" Then he came below and roused his companions. Presently there was a loud commotion on deck. This was enough for our Doctor. One could hear him rapidly dressing in his little state-room—then staggering through the saloon, for the wind was knocking about the White Dove considerably—then groping his way up the dark companion. For some time there was a fine turmoil going on above. Another anchor was thrown out. The gig and dingay were brought in on deck. All the skylights were fastened down, and the tarpaulins put over. Then a woman's voice—
"Angus! Angus!"
The Doctor came tumbling down the companion; by this time we had got a candle lit in the saloon.
"What is it?" was heard from the partly opened door of the ladies' cabin.
"Nothing at all. A bit of a breeze has sprung up."