"I live in a boat," said I.
"A boat! A sort of 'Rob Roy' arrangement, I suppose. Well, I
would not have thought that of you. And your wife, I suppose, has
gone home to her people?"
"She has done nothing of the kind," I answered. "She lives with
me, and she likes it very much. We are extremely comfortable, and
our boat is not a canoe, or any such nonsensical affair. It is a
large, commodious canal-boat."
Waterford turned around and looked at me.
"Are you a deck-hand?" he asked.
"Deck-grandmother!" I exclaimed.
"Well, you needn't get mad about it," he said. "I didn't mean to
hurt your feelings; but I couldn't see what else you could be on a
canal-boat. I don't suppose, for instance, that you're captain."
"But I am," said I.
"Look here!" said Waterford; "this is coming it rather strong,
isn't it?"
As I saw he was getting angry, I told him all about it,--told him
how we had hired a stranded canal-boat and had fitted it up as a
house, and how we lived so cosily in it, and had called it "Rudder
Grange," and how we had taken a boarder.
"Well!" said he, "this is certainly surprising. I'm coming out to
see you some day. It will be better than going to Barnum's."
I told him--it is the way of society--that we would be glad to see
him, and we parted. Waterford never did come to see us, and I
merely mention this incident to show how some of our friends talked
about Rudder Grange, when they first heard that we lived there.
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