"O yes, Agnes, I remember!" I said; "your mother thinks the weather bad
enough to take to the church, does she? How do you come to be here now?
Where is your husband?"
"He'll be here in an hour or so, sir. He don't mind the wet. You see, we
don't like the old people to be left alone when it blows what the sailors
call 'great guns.'"
"And what becomes of his mother then?"
"There don't be any sea out there, sir. Leastways," she added with a quiet
smile, and stopped.
"You mean, I suppose, Agnes, that there is never any perturbation of the
elements out there?"
She laughed; for she understood me well enough. The temper of Joe's mother
was proverbial.
"But really, sir," she said, "she don't mind the weather a bit; and though
we don't live in the same cottage with her, for Joe wouldn't hear of that,
we see her far oftener than we see my mother, you know."
"I'm sure it's quite fair, Agnes. Is Joe very sorry that he married you,
now?"
She hung her head, and blushed so deeply through all her sallow complexion,
that I was sorry I had teased her, and said so.
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