very promptly frustrated by the gale. Ruddle lifted his eyes at last.
"If you please, ma'am, I don't think I do," said he. Then he added in desperation—"At least, not well, ma'am."
The situation was too desperate for screaming, and Susan accordingly did not scream. She became dignified.
"I have been your wife for three years, and now you say you don't know me. If you don't know me, who am I, and what am I? Tom, sir, Mr. Ruddle, I pause for a reply."
Poor Ruddle shook his head very sadly.
"It's mighty awkward, I own," he said after some reflection; "and I don't know what to do about it. I'm very sorry I don't know you, but I can't say I do, much as I'd like to oblige a lady that I'm bound to respect, as, according to the other gents in long-tailed coats, I'm married to her. But they say I was a missionary, and now I'm a seaman again, and maybe you don't care for those that follow the sea."
"I don't mind anything," sobbed Susan, who was wondering if she might tell her husband that she loved him and would not care if he were a dustman. But somehow it did not seem
