"
The face of the captain, whilst this conversation was passing, was a
study in suppressed emotions. He was a firm advocate for importing the
manners of the quarter-deck into private life, the only drawback being
that he had to leave behind him the language usual in that locality. To
this omission he usually ascribed his failures.
"Sit down, Chrissie," he commanded; "sit down, Jane. Now, miss, what's
all this about?"
"I don't like to tell you," said Chrissie, folding her hands in her lap.
"I know you'll be cross. You're so unreasonable."
The captain stared--frightfully.
"I'm going to be married," said Chrissie suddenly,--"there! To Jack
Metcalfe--there! So you'll have to learn to love him. He's going to try
and love you for my sake." To his sister's dismay the captain got up,
and brandishing his fists walked violently to and fro. By these simple
but unusual means decorum was preserved.
"If you were only a boy," said the captain, when he had regained his
seat, "I should know what to do with you."
"If I were a boy," said Chrissie, who, having braced herself up for the
fray, meant to go through with it, "I shouldn't want to marry Jack.
Don't be silly, father!"
"Jane," said the captain, in a voice which made the lady addressed start
in her chair, "what do you mean by it?"
"It isn't my fault," said Miss Polson feebly.
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