"
"They're a poor lot, the whole pack of them," said the lawyer, savagely,
thinking of the quandary in which he and his friend were placed.
"Who is?" asked The Crew.
"Why, the women, to be sure."
"Look here, Mister, my name may be Sylvanus, but I know I'm pretty
rough, for all that. But, rough as I am, I don't sit quiet and let any
man, no, not as good friends as you and me has been, say a word agin the
wimmen. When I think o' these yere gals as was in this blessed schooner
last summer, I feel it my juty, bein' I'm one o' them as helped to sail
her then, to stand up fer all wimmen kind, and, no offence meant. I
guess your own mother's one o' the good sort, now wasn't she?"
"I should say she is," replied Coristine; "there are splendid women in
the world, but they're all married."
"That don't stand to reason, nohow," said The Crew, with gravity, "'cos
there was a time wonst when they wasn't married, and if they was good
arter they was good afore. And, moreover, what was, is, and ever shall
be, Amen!"
"All right, Sylvanus, we won't quarrel over them, and to show I bear no
malice, I'll sing a song about the sex," whereupon he trolled out:
"Here's to the Maiden of Bashful Fifteen.
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