milk-can this time, but there warn't much in it, an' the
cat's got the benefit. Well, darlin' Joe, where was I--oh, the dear
young lady's so honest an' straitfor'ard, that even a child could see
through her, though none of us can make out what she's drivin' at.
Yesterday she went to see Mrs Bright, an' took a liar with her--'"

"Hallo! Joe, surely she'd niver do that," said the skipper in a
remonstrative tone.

"She means a lawyer," returned Joe, apologetically, "but Maggie niver
could spell that word, though I've often tried to teach 'er--`Maggie,'
says I, `you mustn't write _liar_, but _law-yer_.'

"`La! yer jokin',' says she.

"`No,' says I, `I'm not, that's the way to spell it,' an' as Maggie's a
biddable lass, she got to do it all right, but her memory ain't over
strong, so, you see, she's got back to the old story. Howsever, she
don't really mean it, you know."

"Just so," returned the skipper, "heave ahead wi' the letter, Joe."

Knitting his brows, and applying himself to the much-soiled and crumpled
sheet, the mate continued to read:--

"`An' the liar he puzzled her with all sorts o' questions, just as if he
was a schoolmaster and she a school-girl. He bothered her to that
extent she began to lose temper, ("he better take care," muttered the
skipper, chuckling), but Miss Ruth she sees that, an' putt a stop to it
in her own sweet way, ("lucky for the liar," muttered the skipper), an'
so they went away without explainin'. We've all had a great talk over
it, an' we're most of us inclined to think--oh! that babby, she's bin an
rammed her darlin' futt into the tar-bucket! but it ain't much the
worse, though it's cost about half-a-pound o' butter to take it off, an'
that ain't a joke wi' butter at 1 shilling, 4 pence a pound, an' times
so bad--well, as I was goin' to say, if that blessed babby would only
let me, we're all inclined to think it must have somethin' to do wi'
that man as David owes money to, who said last year that he'd sell his
smack an' turn him an' his family out o' house an' home if he didn't pay
up, though what Miss Ruth has to do wi' that, or how she come for to
know it we can't make out at all.'"

"The blackguard!" growled the skipper, fiercely, referring to `that
man,' "if I only had his long nose within three futt o' my fist, I'd let
him feel what my knuckles is made of!"

"Steamer in sight, father," sang out Billy at that moment down the
companion-hatch.

The conference being t