"Mr. Chalk understands what I mean," said Captain Brisket, with dignity.
"When I said 'She is yours,' I meant that she is coming here."

"O-oh!" said Mrs. Chalk, breathlessly. "Oh, indeed! Oh, is she?"

"That is, if her mother'll let her come," pursued the enterprising
Brisket, with a look of great artfulness at Mr. Chalk, to call his
attention to the bridge he was building for him; "but the old woman's
been laid up lately and talks about not being able to spare her."

Mrs. Chalk sat back helplessly in her chair and gazed from her husband to
Captain Brisket, and from Captain Brisket back to her husband. Captain
Brisket, red-faced and confident, sat upright on the edge of his chair as
though inviting inspection; Mr. Chalk plucked nervously at his fingers.
Captain Bowers suddenly broke silence.

"What's her tonnage?" he inquired abruptly, turning to Brisket.

"Two hundred and for----"

Captain Brisket stopped dead and, rubbing his nose hard with his
forefinger, gazed thoughtfully at Captain Bowers.

"The _Fair Emily_ is a ship," said the latter to Mrs. Chalk.

"A ship!" cried the bewildered woman. "A ship living with her invalid
mother and coming to my husband to get her a place! Are you trying to
screen him, too?"