crossly to his wife, who had heard the story scores of times, and,
it must be confessed, was making some noise in preparing bread and
milk for Sylvia's supper.

Bell did not say a word in reply, but Sylvia tapped his shoulder
with a pretty little authoritative air.

'It's for me, feyther. I'm just keen-set for my supper. Once let me
get quickly set down to it, and Philip there to his glass o' grog,
and you'll never have such listeners in your life, and mother's mind
will be at ease too.'

'Eh! thou's a wilfu' wench,' said the proud father, giving her a
great slap on her back. 'Well! set thee down to thy victual, and be
quiet wi' thee, for I want to finish my tale to Philip. But,
perhaps, I've telled it yo' afore?' said he, turning round to
question Hepburn.

Hepburn could not say that he had not heard it, for he piqued
himself on his truthfulness. But instead of frankly and directly
owning this, he tried to frame a formal little speech, which would
soothe Daniel's mortified vanity; and, of course, it had the
directly opposite effect. Daniel resented being treated like a
child, and yet turned his back on Philip with all the wilfulness of
one. Sylvia did not care for her cousin, but hated the discomfort of
having her father displeased; so she took up her tale of adventure,
and told her father and mother of her afternoon's proceedings.
Daniel pretended not to listen at first, and made ostentatious
noises with his spoon and glass; but by-and-by he got quite warm and
excited about the doings of the press-gang, and scolded both Philip