"She spoke first, and then the minister spoke. They both had a good deal to say, I have been told. And while they were talking, Jotham Wildgoose--yes, that was his actual name--sat on his stone, rocking back and forth, rubbing his hands on his knees, saying never a word. At last, when both of them were out of breath and out of patience, the old man spoke. 'Get out!' he said; and never said another word as long as he lived." "The _i_dea! Why, I never heard of such a thing, Mr. Hadley. Why, how did he live? How did he do his marketing?" The practical mind of the Scientific General pounced at once on the main issue. Man need not talk, but he must eat. "He lived mostly on fish; he had his boat, you see, and he was a good fisherman. When he wanted other supplies, he took a string of fish to the nearest village and got what he wanted in exchange. He was very clever in making signs; he could write, too. Yes, I believe Jotham Wildgoose lived to a good old age, and counted himself a fortunate man." "And what became of his wife?" "Poor thing! They say she scolded herself to death. She was a sad shrew, from all accounts. Of course, I am not excusing Jotham," he added hastily; "I am only explaining." Mary pondered. "'Tis a queer story!" she said at last. "'Twas strange he wouldn't listen to the minister, though. You'd thought he would!" The chaplain's eyes twinkled. "They are taken that way sometimes!" he said. "I'll bet he'd have minded if _you_ had told him to go home!" Mary spoke with conviction, but the chaplain shook his head. "Don't be too sure, Mary! Did you ever hear about Mr. Bourne and his wife? No, how should you! It was an old song when my father was a boy. Listen, now! "Mr. Bourne and his wife One evening had a strife. He wanted bread and butter with his tea, But she swore she'd rule the roast And she'd have a piece of toast, So to loggerheads with him went she, she, she, So to loggerheads with him went she. "Now there was a Mr. Moore Lived on the second floor, A man very strong in the wrist. He overheard the splutter About toast and bread and butter And he knocked down Mr. Bourne with his fist, fist, fist, And he knocked down Mr. Bourne with his fist. "Quoth Moore, 'By my life, You shall not beat your wife. It is both a sin and disgrace.' 'You fool,' said Mrs. Bourne, ''Tis no business of yourn!' And she dashed a cup of tea in his face, face, face, And she dashed a cup of tea in his face. "Quoth poor Mr. Moore, As he sneaked to the door, 'I'm clearly an ass without brains. For, when married folks are flouting, If a stranger pokes his snout in. He is sure to get it tweaked for his pains, pains, pains, He is sure to get it tweaked for his pains.'"