"Don't you get letting it be got o' purpose for me. Anything'll do for me--a bit o' sooetty pudden, for instance." "All right, Rasp. Tripe and suet pudding on Sunday week." "If ever there was," said Rasp, thoughtfully, as he made an offer to get at the poker, "a woman as was made to be a beautiful angel, and didn't turn out to be one because they forgot her wings, that's your missus, Master Dutch." "Thank you, Rasp, old fellow, thank you," said the young man, smiling; and his eyes brightened as he listened to this homely praise of the woman he worshipped. "But what's a puzzle to me," continued the old fellow, with a grim chuckle, "is how she as is so soft, and fair, and dark-haired, and gentle, could take up with such a strong, broad-shouldered chap as you, Mr Dutch." "Yes, it was strange," said the young man. "I should more like have expected to see you pair off wi' Captain Studwick's lass--Miss Bessy. Now, she's a fine gal, if you like." "Yes, she's a fine, handsome girl, Rasp; and her father's very proud of her, too." "I should just think he ought to be," said Rasp. "Why, it's my belief, if any chap offended her, she'd give him such a clap aside o' the head as would make his ears ring." "I don't know about that, Rasp," laughed the other; "but I do believe whoever wins her will have a true-hearted Englishwoman for his wife." "O' course he will, else she wouldn't be the skipper's lass. Bless her!--she's always got a nice, pleasant word to say to a man when she comes here with her father. He used to think you meant to make up to her, Master Dutch." "Nonsense, man, nonsense!" "Oh, but he did; and then this other affair came off. I never could understand it, though." "Ah, it was a problem, eh?" laughed the younger man. "For you ain't good-looking, are you, sir?" "Not at all, Rasp," laughed the other. "We should neither of us get the prize for beauty, eh, Rasp?" "_I_ should think not," said Rasp: "but I always was the ugliest man our way. I think she took to you because you were so straight, and stout, and strong." "Perhaps so, Rasp." "I've heerd say, as the more gentle, and soft, and tender a woman is, the more she likes a fellow as is all big bone and muscle, so as to take care of her, you know. That must ha' been it, sir," continued the old fellow, chuckling, "unless she took a fancy to your name. Ho! ho! ho!" "No, I don't think it was that, Rasp, my man," said the other, quietly. "More don't I, sir; Dutch Pug. Ho! ho! ho!" "Dutch Drayson Pugh, Master Rasp." "Pug's bad enough," said the old fellow; "but Dutch! What did they call you Dutch for?" "It was a whim of my father," said the other. "My grandfather married a lady in Holland, and in memory of the alliance my father said--so I've often been told--that as I was a fair, sturdy little fellow, like a Dutch burgomaster in miniature, I should be called Dutch; and that is my name, Mr Rasp, at your service."