"Bargee," said the son of Belial, in a dispassionate voice.
"Don’t take no notice of him, Ted," said the skipper, pityingly.
"He wasn’t talking to me," said Ted. "But never mind about him; I want to speak to you in private."
"Fire away, my lad," said the other, in a patronizing voice.
"Speak up," said the voice from the schooner, encouragingly. "I’m listening."
There was no reply from the bargee. The master led the way to the cabin, and lighting a lamp, which appealed to more senses than one, took a seat on a locker, and again requested the other to fire away.
"Well, you see, it’s this way," began the mate, with a preliminary wriggle: "there’s a certain young woman———"
"A certain young what?" shouted the master of the Arabella.
"Woman," repeated the mate, snappishly; "you’ve heard of a woman afore, haven’t you? Well, there’s a certain young woman I’m walking out with I———"
