He was uncomfortable
and kept glancing under his brows at Malcolm, with whom, under the
circumstances, he could not help sympathizing to an extent. But his
sympathy was wasted. The young man did not appear in the slightest
degree nervous. The memory of his recent interview with Captain Elisha
did not embarrass him, outwardly at least, half as much as it did the
captain. He declared that old Pat's death was beastly hard luck, but
accidents were bound to happen. It was a shame, and all that. "If
there's anything the mater and I can do, Caroline, call on us, of
course."
"Yes, do, Caroline," concurred his mother. "However, one must be
philosophic in such cases. It is a mercy that people in their station do
not feel grief and loss as we do. Providence, in its wisdom, has limited
their susceptibilities as it has their intelligence. Don't you agree
with me, Captain Warren?"
"Sartin!" was the prompt reply. "It's always a comfort to me, when I go
fishin', to know that the fish ain't got so much brains as I have. The
hook hurts, I presume likely, but they ain't got the sense to realize
what a mean trick's been played on 'em. The one that's caught's dead,
and them that are left are too busy hustlin' for the next meal to waste
much time grievin'.
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