s seems
turned into a gulf to separate us from our former surroundings.

Adam was the first to speak, and with a touch of irony he said, "You're
none of you very nimble at wishing us joy, I fancy."

"And no wonder, you've a-tooked us all aback so," said old Zebedee. "'T
seems to me I'm foaced to turn it round and round afore I can swaller it
for rale right-down truth."

"Why, is it so very improbable, then?" asked Adam, already repenting the
abruptness of the disclosure.

"Wa-al, 'twas no later than last night that you was swearin' agen and
cussin' everybody from stem to starn for so much as mentionin' it as
likely. Now," he added, with as much show of displeasure as his cheery,
weatherbeaten old face would admit of, "I'll tell 'ee the mind I've got
to'ard these sort o' games: if you see fit to board folks in the smoke,
why do it and no blame to 'ee, but hang me if I can stomach 'ee sailin'
under false colors."

"There wasn't anything of false colors about us, father," said Adam in a
more conciliatory tone; "for, though I had certainly spoken to Eve, it
was not until after I'd parted with you last night that she gave me her
answer."

"Awh!" said the old man, only half propitiated. "Wa-al, I s'pose you can
settle your consarns without my help; but I can tell 'ee this much, that
if my Joanna had took so long afore she could make her mind up, I'm
blamed if her ever should ha' had the chance o' bein' your mother,
Adam--so there!"

Adam bit his lip with vexation. "There's no need for me to enter upon
any further explanations," he said: "Eve's satisfied, I'm satisfied, so
I don't see why you shouldn't be satisfied."

"Awh, I'm satisfied enough," said Zebedee; "and, so far as that goes,
though I ain't much of a hand at speechifyin', I hopes that neither of
'ee 'ull never have no raison to repent yer bargain. Eve's a fine
bowerly maid, so you'm well matched there; and so long as she's ready to
listen to all you say and bide by all you tells her, why 'twill be set
fair and sail easy."

"I can assure you Eve isn't prepared to do anything of the sort, Uncle
Zebedee," exclaimed Eve, unable to keep silence any longer. "I've always
been told if I'd nothing else I've got the Pascals' temper; and that,
according to your own showing, isn't very fond of sitting quiet and
being rode over rough-shod."

The whistle which Uncle Zebedee had tried to choke at its birth now came
out shrill, long and expressive, and Adam, jumping up