“Very true,” replied I.  “Every woman who requires looking after is not worth the trouble; but I’ve no fear but we shall find you when we come back.”

“Tom, I hate you,” replied Bessy.  “Why do you not join me in persuading father to stay on shore?”

“Well, if you hate me, Bessy, it proves, at all events, that I’m not indifferent to you,” said I, laughing; “but really and truly, Bessy, I do not consider there is any very great risk in your father going up the river with me, as he will be in smooth water before dark.”

“Well, but, allowing that, why should father go at all?”

“I want to see old Anderson, my love,” replied Bramble, taking his pipe out of his mouth.

“Yes, and if you once begin again, you’ll not leave off—­I know it well.  You will never come home except to get clean linen, and be off again; and I shall be in a constant state of alarm and misery.  How selfish of you, father!  You had better by far have left me to drown on the Goodwin Sands—­it would have been more kind,” replied Bessy, weeping.

“Bessy,” said Bramble, “it’s my opinion that you are in love.”

“In love!” cried Bessy, coloring to her throat.

“Yes, in love, my dear, or you would not talk such nonsense.”

“If loving you as my father is being in love, I am, unfortunately.”

“That’s only half of the story; now give us the other,” said Bramble, smiling.

“What do you mean?” inquired Bessy, turning to him.

“Why, how do you love Tom?”

“Not half so much as I love her,” said I.

“Well, if that’s the case,” replied Bramble, “we may as well publish the bans; for Bessy’s in love right over the ankles.”

“Father, this may be very pleasant mockery; but I think it is not kind to breed ill-will between those who live under the same roof.  Now you may go away; and if the knowledge that you have made me unhappy will add to the pleasure of your journey, I can assure you that you have succeeded.”  Bessy, having said this, immediately left the room and went upstairs.

“Well,” said Bramble, after a pause, “I’m glad that I never was in love; for people so situated do make themselves very silly, that’s a fact.  Tom, if you’re going, it’s time to be off.”

“Why—­” replied I, hesitatingly.

“I know—­but I tell you, Tom, no such thing.  She’ll have a good cry, and then she’ll come down as well as ever.  Leave her alone till we come back.”

Bramble and I then left the cottage, jumped into the galley, and were soon on board of the ship.