However, their mother who had the heart of a lion, who was afraid of nothing so long as it was human--and even Mr. Thompson was apparently that--took upon herself to have a little serious discourse with the man of the sea. "I suppose, Mr. Thompson, this is a decent ship to which you will be taking the poor child?" said she. It was necessary for Mr. Thompson to roll his eyes fearfully before he could do justice to such a leading question. He was then understood to say in his queer, guttural voice, which seemed to come out of his boots, that the ship was right enough, although a bit hungry at times as all ships were. "Is the captain of the vessel a gentleman?" demanded Mother at point-blank range. Mr. Thompson was understood to say that when the Old Man was all right he was all right, but when in drink he was a devil. "All men are," said Mother, succinctly. "That's the worst of it. But I understand you to say that at ordinary times the captain's a gentleman." "Yep," said Mr. Thompson, comprehensively. In spite, however, of this valuable testimonial to the captain's character and status, Mother seemed very loath to put her trust in him or in Mr. Thompson either. For one thing that admirable seaman expectorated again into the kitchen fire, but that apart, the note of primeval extravagance in his outward aspect hardly commended itself to Mother. "The child is very young," she said, "to be going to sea. And you sailors has rough ways--my great-uncle Dexter always said so. And he was a rough man if you like--not as rough as you are, Mr. Thompson, but still he was rough. And as I say, the boy is not grown yet, there's nothing to him, as you might say; still, as it's you, Mr. Thompson, or the Work'us, I suppose it'll have to be you." "Quite so, M'ria," interposed Mr. Hendren with marked urbanity. "Now you quite understand," said Mother. "Mr. Thompson, I hold you responsible for this boy. You'll be good to him, and stand his friend, and teach him seafaring ways, and you'll see that nobody ill-uses him. You'll promise that now, Mr. Thompson. This boy's delicate, and as I say, he's already been knocked about so crool, he's frit of his own shadow." Mr. Thompson promised with becoming solemnity that he would see no harm came to the boy. Thereupon he seemed to go up a little in Mother's estimation. Moreover, he suddenly took an odd fancy to Johnnie. He produced a foreign penny from his pea-jacket, offered it to Johnnie and asked him what he thought of it, and he seemed so gratified that Johnnie--who had about as much imagination as the leg of a chair--was not in the least afraid of him, that he told Johnnie to keep the penny, and then he fairly took away the breath of everybody, Mother included, by promising magnificently to bring Johnnie a parrot from the West Indies. Even Mr. Elijah Hendren was impressed by this princely offer on the part of his kinsman by marriage.