“Well, Eve?”

“Well, then, put all these together, and now, why not come to me for friendly advice and the voice of reason?”

“Reason! reason! there are other lights besides reason.”

“Jack-o’-lantern, eh? and Will-o’-the-wisp.”

“Eve, nobody can advise me that can’t feel for me.  Nobody can feel for me that doesn’t know my pain; and you don’t know that, because you were never in love.”

“Oh, then, if I had ever been in love, you would listen.”

“As I would to an angel from Heaven.”

“And be advised by me.”

“Why not? for then you’d be competent to advise; but now you haven’t an idea what you are talking about.”

“What a pity!  Don’t you think it would be as well if you were not to speak to me so sulky?”

“I ask your pardon; Eve.  I did not mean to offend you.”

“Davy, dear—­for God’s sake what is this chill that has come between you and me?  You are a man.  Speak out like a man.”

David turned his great calm, sorrowful eye full upon her.

“Well, then, Eve, if the truth must be told, I am disappointed in you.”

“Oh, David.”

“A little.  You are not the girl I took you for.  You know which way my fancy lies, yet you keep steering me in the teeth of it; then you see how down-hearted I am this while, but not a word of comfort or hope comes from you, and me almost dried up for want of one.”

“Make one word of it, David—­I am not a sister to you.”

“I don’t say that, but you might be kinder; you are against me just when I want you with me the most.”

“Now this is what I like,” said Eve, cheerfully; “this is plain speaking.  So now it is my turn, my lad.  Do you remember Balaam and his ass?”

“Sure,” said David; but, used as he was to Eve’s transitions, he couldn’t help staring a little at being carried eastward ho so suddenly.

“Then what did the ass say when she broke silence at last?”

“Well, you know, Eve; I take shame to say I don’t remember her very words, but the tune of them I do.  Why, she sang out, ’Avast there! it is first fault, so you needn’t be so hasty with your thundering rope’s end."’

“There!  You’d make a nice commentator.  You haven’t taken it up one bit; you are as much in the dark as our parson.  He preached on her the very Sunday you came home, and it was all I could do to help whipping up into the pulpit, and snatching away his book, and letting daylight in on them.”

David was scandalized at the very idea of such a breach of discipline.  “That is ridiculous,” said he; “one can’t have two skippers in a church any more than in a ship, brig, or bark.  But you can let daylight in on me.”