I like to be sure o' gettin' up in the same position next mornin'; and
I'd to feel the same about a husband, supposin' I cared for the man."

"I often think," mused Mrs Bosenna, "that we're not half grateful enough
to sailors, considering the risks they run and the things they bring us
home: tea and coffee, raisins, currants, with all kinds of spices and
cordial drinks."

"Oranges an' lemons, say the bells o' St Clemen's. Oranges--"

"I wasn't thinking of this Captain Hocken in particular," interrupted
the widow hastily. "Take a Christmas pudding, for instance. Flour and
suet, and there's an end if you depend on the farmer; just an ordinary
dumpling. Whereas the sailor brings the figs, the currants, the candied
peel, the chopped almonds, the brandy--all the ingredients that make it
Christmassy."

"And then the farmer takes an' eats it. Aw, believe me, mistress,
Stay-at-home fares best in this world!"

"I don't know, Dinah," sighed Mrs Bosenna. "Haven't you ever in your
life wished for a pair o' wings?"

"To wear in my hat? Why, o' course I have."

"No, no; I mean, for the wings of a dove, to fly away and be--well, not
at rest exactly--"

"No, I haven't, mistress. But 'tis the way with you discontented rich
folks. Like Hocken's ducks, all of 'ee--never happy unless you be where