less jolly sailor-man he continued to be. And it was during that
period--to be exact, three years after he ran away and four years before
he returned--that, as I have said, at Portsmouth, New Hampshire, he
married, after ten days' courtship, Mary Godselle, only daughter of Jean
Godselle, saloon keeper of that town."

"That makes him just eighteen," I remarked; "somewhat young for a
bridegroom."

"But a good deal older than the bride," was Henry's comment, "she being
at the time a few months over fourteen."

"Was it legal?" I enquired.

"Quite legal," answered Henry. "In New Hampshire, it would seem, they
encourage early marriages. 'Can't begin a good thing too soon,' is, I
suppose, their motto."

"How did the marriage turn out?" was my next question. The married life
of a lady and gentleman, the united ages of whom amounted to thirty-two,
promised interesting developments.

"Practically speaking," replied Henry, "it wasn't a marriage at all. It
had been a secret affair from the beginning, as perhaps you can imagine.
The old man had other ideas for his daughter, and wasn't the sort of
father to be played with. They separated at the church door, intending
to meet again in the evening. Two hours later Master Tom Sleight got
knocked on the head in a street brawl. If a row was to be had anywhere
within walking distance he was the sort of fellow to be in it. When he
came to his senses he found himself lying in his bunk, and the 'Susan