The Captain was a weather-beaten stout old gentleman, who had seen some hard service during the war, and what with wounds, hard-drinking, and the gout, had been forced to relinquish the sea, and anchor for life in the pretty village of Norgood, where he held property, through the death of the rich Mr. Henderson, to a considerable amount.  His wife had been dead for some years, and his only daughter, whom he scarcely suffered out of his sight, was educated at home, under the superintendence of her aunt, who professed to be the most accomplished, as she certainly was the most disagreeable, woman in the world.

“I think, Captain Whitmore, you had better defer your congratulations until you see what sort of persons these young men are.  Mrs. Grant assured me yesterday that one of these gentlemen is very wild.  Quite a profligate.”

“Fiddlesticks!” said the jolly Captain, snapping his fingers.  “I know what young men are.  A gay dashing lad, I suppose, whose hot blood and youthful frolics old maiden ladies construe into the most awful crimes.”

“Old maiden ladies, sir!  Pray whom do you mean to insult by that gross appellation?”

“Gross!  I always thought that maiden was a term that implied virgin innocence and purity, whether addressed to the blithe lass of sixteen, or the antiquated spinster of forty,” returned the provoking sailor, with a knowing glance.

“I hate your vulgar insinuations,” said Miss Dorothy, her sharp nose flushing to a deep red.  “But how can one expect politeness from a sea monster?”

“Ha! ha! ha!” shouted the Captain.  “Never mind, Dolly, don’t give way to temper, and curl up that bowsprit of yours with such a confounded ugly twist.  There may be a chance yet.  Let me see.  I don’t think that you are fifty-four.  My nurse, Betty Holt, was called an old maid for thirty years, and married at last.”

“I wonder, brother, that you are not ashamed of naming me and that low-born person in the same breath.  As to matrimony, I despise the male sex too much to degrade myself by entering upon it.”

“It would have sweetened your temper amazingly,” said the Captain, re-filling his pipe.  “I believe, Dorothy, you were never put to the trial?”

“You know that I refused at least a dozen offers.”

“Whew!  I never heard a word about them before.”

Miss Dorothy knew that she was telling a great fib; and she drew herself up with increased dignity.  “You were at sea, sir.”

“So, I suppose,” drawing a long whiff from his pipe, “I must have been a great way off; and these same offers must have been made a long time ago.”

“I could marry yet, if I pleased!” screamed the indignant spinster.

“Doubtful.  And pray who is the happy man?”

“I have too much delicacy to reveal secrets, or to subject myself or him to your vulgar ridicule.”

“I wish him luck!” said the Captain, turning over the leaves of Juliet’s portfolio.  “What the deuce does the girl mean?  She has scribbled over all the paper.  I hope she don’t amuse herself by writing love-letters?”