"Are you sure of your Pints of the Compass?" he inquired. "If you're not
sure, put your back ag'in the wall, and we'll go all over 'em again, my
dear, beginning with the Noathe."
Magdalen assured him that she felt quite familiar, by this time, with
all the points, the "Noathe" included; and then repeated her question
in louder tones. The veteran obstinately matched her by becoming deafer
than ever.
"Yes, my dear," he said, "you're right; it _is_ chilly in these
passages; and unless I go back to my fire, my fire'll go out--won't it?
If you don't feel sure of your Pints of the Compass, come in to me and
I'll put you right again." He winked benevolently, whistled to the dogs,
and hobbled off. Magdalen heard him chuckle over his own success in
balking her curiosity on the subject of the second floor. "I know how
to deal with 'em!" said old Mazey to himself, in high triumph. "Tall and
short, native and foreign, sweethearts and wives--_I_ know how to deal
with 'em!"
Left by herself, Magdalen exemplified the excellence of the old sailor's
method of treatment, in her particular case, by ascending the stairs
immediately, to make her own observations on the second floor.
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