"What's the matter with you?
What's the matter with you, shipmate?"
In as calm, but rapid a manner as possible, I gave her to understand
the whole case. Unconsciously clapping the vinegar-cruet
to one side of her nose, she ruminated for an instant;
then exclaimed--"No! I haven't seen it since I put it there."
Running to a little closet under the landing of the stairs, she glanced
in, and returning, told me that Queequeg's harpoon was missing.
"He's killed himself," she cried. "It's unfort'nate Stiggs done
over again there goes another counterpane--God pity his poor mother!--
it will be the ruin of my house. Has the poor lad a sister?
Where's that girl?--there, Betty, go to Snarles the Painter,
and tell him to paint me a sign, with--"no suicides permitted here,
and no smoking in the parlor;"--might as well kill both
birds at once. Kill? The Lord be merciful to his ghost!
What's that noise there? You, young man, avast there!"
And running up after me, she caught me as I was again trying to force
open the door.
"I won't allow it; I won't have my premises spoiled.
Go for the locksmith, there's one about a mile from here. But avast!"
putting her hand in her side pocket, "here's a key that'll fit, I guess;
let's see.
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