"Bah! boo! Why does nobody ask for my opinion on the matter?" said uncle Rik, as he gazed at the company over a goose drumstick, which was obviously not tender.
"Your opinion, brother," said Mr. Wright, "is so valuable, that no doubt your nephew has been keeping it to the last as a sort of tit-bit—eh, Robin?"
"Well, uncle; come, let us have it," said Robin.
"You don't deserve it," returned Rik, with a wrench at the drumstick, "but you shall have it all the same, free, gratis. Was this bird fed on gutta-percha shavings, sister Nan?"
"Perhaps—or on violin strings, I'm not sure which," replied Mrs. Wright blandly.
"Well," continued the captain, "you youngsters will go off, I see, right or wrong, and you'll get half-drowned in the sea, roasted in the East, smothered in the desert, eaten alive by cannibals, used up by the plague, poisoned by serpents, and tee-totally ruined altogether. Then you'll come home with the skin of your teeth on—nothing more."
"I sincerely hope it will be summer at the time," said Sam, laughing; "but we are grateful to you for prophesying that we shall return, even though in such light clothing."
"That's what'll happen," continued the captain,
