hundreds of years, (_fraternal and cunning?_) Don't alarm yourself, my
dear. The sea can't get us. Look at me! I didn't get drowned. Moreover,
Harry ain't a sailor at all. And if he isn't a sailor, he's bound to
come back--to-morrow.

Bessie (_Has been facing him; murmurs_). No. I give it up. He scares me.
(_Aloud, sharply_.) Then I would give up that advertising in the papers.

Capt. H. (_Surprised and puzzled_). Why, my dear? Everybody does it. His
poor mother and I have been advertising for years and years. But she was
an impatient woman. She died.

Bessie. If your son's coming, as--as you say--what's the good of that
expense? You had better spend that half-crown on yourself. I believe you
don't eat enough.

Capt. H. (_Confused_). But it's the right thing to do. Look at the
Sunday papers. Missing relatives on top page--all proper. (_Looks
unhappy_.)

Bessie (_Tartly_). Ah, well! I declare I don't know what you live on.

Capt. H. Are you getting impatient, my dear? Don't get impatient--like
my poor wife. If she'd only been patient she'd be here. Waiting. Only
one day more. (_Pleadingly_.) Don't be impatient, my dear.

Bessie. I've no patience with you sometimes.

Capt. H. (_Flash of lucidity_). Why? What's the matter? (_Sympathetic_.)
You're tired out, my dear, that's what it is.