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"Why, sartinly, your honour," answered the man, looking at the Admiral.,

"Be careful, Billy. Don't touch him!" warned Hinter, but he spoke too late. Billy had bent and laid his hand gently on the dog's quivering back. The low growl died in the animal's throat. Slowly his heavy muzzle was lifted until his nose touched Billy's cheek. Then his long flail-like tail began to wag.,

"All praise of him is gratifying to me for his father's sake," said Captain Acton, whilst Lucy sat in silence with the shadow of a smile lurking about her mouth, but invisible in her soft, dreamy half-veiled eyes.,

"He! More likely he was chasing one of his pigs, if indeed he was not in bed, sound under the influence of flip. As those brigs are not useful, and as they are not ornamental, why is the nation put to the cost of maintaining them? Had my son received Tupman's berth—oh, ma'am, I must tell you of a noble, generous deed of kindness your excellent, large-hearted father has been good enough to do me and Mr Lawrence. He has promised him the command of the Minorca."

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Here again the fellow paused, apparently striving to find words to produce his picture.,

"And who are these two men? What have they done?",

But this sort of argument did not fall within the frame of Mr Greyquill's picture of integrity. It was a letter lying ready for anybody's hand in a public way; next, it was not addressed; third, it was not signed; and fourth, though the contents were apparently in Mr Lawrence's handwriting, yet some people did write, as Greyquill knew, so wonderfully alike that there was no reason to conclude without strong internal evidence that the letter Mr Greyquill held was written by Mr Lawrence. Whatever else it was, it was certainly a draft roughly pencilled of a letter that had been copied in ink and no doubt despatched. Here and there was an erasure in ink, which proved that it had been copied in ink and corrected in certain places by the pen that was transcribing it. He had not proceeded far when his eyebrows, which, as we have heard, inimitably expressed the aspect of two white mice, arched their backs to an extraordinary degree as though in imitation of a cat when enraged; his mouth took on the posture of a whistle; with his eyes rooted to[Pg 140] the sheet he stopped and scratched his head until he nearly tumbled his hat into the road.,

"So we give him the money but we made him give us what Jim calls a regular bill o' sale receipt fer it. An' so, you see, Ma, we've got Mr. Johnston there, an' he won't ever lay the rod on poor ol' Thomas no more."