The Red Eric | Page 5

and wilfully and wickedly going to sea?"
"Well, it couldn't have happened if he hadn't gone to sea, no doubt."
"Then," argued Martha, "will you, can you, George, contemplate the
possibility of your only daughter coming to the same dreadful end?"
George, not exactly seeing the connection, rubbed his nose with his
forefinger, and replied--"Certainly not."
"Then you are bound," continued Martha, in triumph, "by all that is
upright and honourable, by all the laws of humanity and propriety, to
give up this wild intention--and you must!"
"There!" cried Miss Jane emphatically, as if the argument were
unanswerable--as indeed it was, being incomprehensible.
The last words were unfortunate. They merely riveted the captain's
determination.
"You talk a great deal of nonsense, Martha," he said, rising to depart.
"I've fixed to take her, so the sooner you make up your minds to it the
better."
The sisters knew their brother's character too well to waste more time
in vain efforts; but Martha took him by the arm, and said
earnestly--"Will you promise me, my dear George, that when she
comes back from this voyage, you will never take her on another?"
"Yes, dear sister," replied the captain, somewhat melted, "I promise
that."

Without another word Martha sat down and held out her arms to Ailie,
who incontinently rushed into them. Propriety fled for the nonce,
discomfited. Miss Martha's curls were disarranged beyond repair, and
Miss Martha's collar was crushed to such an extent that the very
laundress who had washed and starched and ironed it would have
utterly failed to recognise it. Miss Jane looked on at these improprieties
in perfect indifference--nay, when, after her sister had had enough, the
child was handed over to her, she submitted to the same violent
treatment without a murmur. For once Nature was allowed to have her
way, and all three had a good hearty satisfactory cry; in the midst of
which Captain Dunning left them, and, proceeding on board his ship,
hastened the preparations for his voyage to the Southern Seas.
CHAPTER THREE.
THE TEA-PARTY--ACCIDENTS AND INCIDENTS OF A MINOR
KIND--GLYNN PROCTOR GETS INTO TROUBLE.
On the evening of the day in which the foregoing scenes were enacted,
the Misses Dunning prepared a repast for their brother and one or two
of his officers, who were to spend the last evening in port there, and
discuss various important and unimportant matters in a sort of
semi-convivio-business way.
An event of this kind was always of the deepest interest and productive
of the most intense anxiety to the amiable though starched sisters; first,
because it was of rare occurrence; and second, because they were never
quite certain that it would pass without some unhappy accident, such as
the upsetting of a tea-cup or a kettle, or the scalding of the cat, not to
mention visitors' legs. They seemed to regard a tea-party in the light of
a firearm--a species of blunderbuss--a thing which, it was to be hoped,
would "go off well"; and, certainly, if loading the table until it groaned
had anything to do with the manner of its "going off," there was every
prospect of its doing so with pre-eminent success upon that occasion.
But besides the anxieties inseparable from the details of the pending
festivities, the Misses Dunning were overwhelmed and weighed down

with additional duties consequent upon their brother's sudden and
unexpected determination. Little Ailie had to be got ready for sea by
the following morning! It was absolute and utter insanity! No one save
a madman or a sea-captain could have conceived such a thing, much
less have carried it into effect tyrannically.
The Misses Dunning could not attempt any piece of duty or work
separately. They always acted together, when possible; and might, in
fact, without much inconvenience, have been born Siamese twins.
Whatever Martha did, Jane attempted to do or to mend; wherever Jane
went, Martha followed. Not, by any means, that one thought she could
improve upon the work of the other; their conduct was simply the result
of a desire to assist each other mutually. When Martha spoke, Jane
echoed or corroborated; and when Jane spoke, Martha repeated her
sentences word for word in a scarcely audible whisper--not after the
other had finished, but during the course of the remarks.
With such dispositions and propensities, it is not a matter to be
wondered at that the good ladies, while arranging the tea-table, should
suddenly remember some forgotten article of Ailie's wardrobe, and rush
simultaneously into the child's bedroom to rectify the omission; or,
when thus engaged, be filled with horror at the thought of having left
the buttered toast too near the fire in the parlour.
"It is really quite perplexing," said Martha, sitting down with a sigh,
and regarding the tea-table with a critical gaze; "quite