The Amateur Gentleman

P.S.--I have seen the finger-post on the London Road.

And now, having made an end of reading, Barnabas sighed and smiled,

and squared his stooping shoulders, and threw up his curly head, and

turning, found the Bo'sun still standing, hat in fist, lost in

contemplation of the gilded ceiling. Hereupon Barnabas caught his

hand, and shook it again, and laughed for very happiness.

"Bo'sun, how can I thank you!" said he, "these letters have given me

new hope--new life! and--and here I leave you to stand, dolt that I

am! And with nothing to drink, careless fool that I am. Sit down, man,

sit down--what will you take, wine? brandy?"

"Mr. Beverley, sir," replied the Bo'sun diffidently, accepting the

chair that Barnabas dragged forward, "you're very kind, sir, but if

I might make so bold,--a glass of ale, sir--?"

"Ale!" cried Barnabas. "A barrel if you wish!" and he tugged at the

bell, at whose imperious summons the Gentleman-in-Powder appearing

with leg-quivering promptitude, Barnabas forthwith demanded

"Ale,--the best, and plenty of it! And pray ask Mr. Peterby to come

here at once!" he added.

"Sir," said the Bo'sun as the door closed, "you'll be for steering a

course for Hawkhurst, p'r'aps?"

"We shall start almost immediately," said Barnabas, busily

collecting those scattered sheets of paper that littered floor and

table; thus he was wholly unaware of the look that clouded the

sailor's honest visage.

"Sir," said the Bo'sun, pegging thoughtfully at a rose in the carpet

with his wooden leg, "by your good leave, I'd like to ax 'ee a

question."

"Certainly, Bo'sun, what is it?" inquired Barnabas, looking up from

the destruction of the many attempts of his first letter to Cleone.

"Mr. Beverley, sir," said the Bo'sun, pegging away at the carpet as

he spoke, "is it--meaning no offence, and axing your pardon,--but

are you hauling your wind and standing away for Hawkhurst so prompt

on 'account o' my Lady Cleone?"

"Yes, Bo'sun, on account of our Lady Cleone."

"Why, then, sir," said the Bo'sun, fixing his eyes on the ceiling

again, "by your leave--but,--why, sir?"

"Because, Bo'sun, you and I have this in common, that we both--love

her."

Here the Bo'sun dropped his glazed hat, and picking it up, sat

turning it this way and that, in his big, brown fingers.

"Why, then, sir," said he, looking up at Barnabas suddenly,

"what of Master Horatio, his Lordship?"

"Why, Bo'sun, I told him about it weeks ago. I had to. You see, he

honors me with his friendship."

The Bo'sun nodded, and broke into his slow smile: "Ah, that alters things, sir," said he. "As for loving my lady--why?

who could help it?"

"Who, indeed, Bo'sun!"

"Though I'd beg to remind you, sir, as orders is orders, and

consequently she's bound to marry 'is Lordship--some day--"