human
Why, what can have become of Joe? cried my mother, with maternal alarm in her countenance, appealing to my father, as she hastened back to the cabin. My father spoke not, but taking the pipe out of his mouth, dropped the bowl of it in a perpendicular direction till it landed softly on the deck, then put it into his mouth again, and puffed mournfully.
gpt
Why, you don't mean to say he is overboard?
human
It's no use crying; what's done can't be helped,
gpt
Can't be helped! cried my mother;
human
Take it coolly,
gpt
Take it coolly! replied my mother in a rage--
human
You would be taking it coolly, at all events,
gpt
O dear! O dear! cried my poor mother;
human
Better luck next time, rejoined my father;