<br />&ldquo;I shall call her the Sea-nymph,&rdquo; said Master Isaac Torrey.<br />&ldquo;Umph!&rdquo; said his clerk, Ichabod Sterns, looking over his spectacles at his master.<br />&ldquo;And why not The Sea-nymph, pray?&rdquo; demanded Master Torrey. &ldquo;Why, I say, should I not call my fine new brig The Sea-nymph if it pleases my fancy?&rdquo;<br />&ldquo;Fancy!&rdquo; said Ichabod Sterns, putting his head on one side. &ldquo;Fancy! Umph!&rdquo;<br />Now this was most exasperating conduct on Ichabod&rsquo;s part, and as such Master Torrey felt it.<br />&ldquo;Yes, if it pleases my fancy,&rdquo; he repeated, defiantly. &ldquo;What right have you, Ichabod Sterns, to object to that, I should like to know? If I chose to name her after the whole choir of all the nymphs that ever swam in the sea&mdash;Panope and Melite, Arethusa, Leucothea, Thetis, Cymodoce&mdash;what have you to say against it? Isn&rsquo;t she to swim the seas and make her living out of the winds and waves? And what can you object to &lsquo;The Sea-nymph?&rsquo; I&rsquo;d like to hear. But it&rsquo;s your nature to object, Ichabod Sterns. I&rsquo;ve no doubt that you came objecting into the world, and I&rsquo;ve no doubt that when your time comes you&rsquo;ll object to dying. It would be just like you.&rdquo;