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"Mr Greyquill!" cried Miss Acton. "Why, he may have come with news of Lucy. Bid him step in!" Billy's frown vanished. "Fine, Harry, fine," he commended, "an' I'll go down to the store with you. Come up to the house, now, and I'll manage to sneak you out some supper." And thus speaking she turned to the bulkhead, and putting her arm against it buried her face in her sleeve, and fell to sobbing so piteously that you would have thought her poor little heart was broken..
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It might be thought that the first person[Pg 420] in the group this gentleman's eyes fastened upon was Lucy. She would be held to appeal in her sweetness, colour, freshness, and youth to a sailor as a nosegay of lovely flowers to a lover of flowers who for months has lived forlorn in a desert of sand. But instead of looking at Lucy, the lieutenant stared at the Admiral with a very great deal of visible speculation in the screwed-up cock of his eye, till his face relaxed with these words: "Pray, sir, did you ever hear of Billy Lawrence?" "You know her well enough, for example," said Mr Lawrence, critically surveying him as though he took counsel within himself whilst he talked, "that if I gave you a letter for her and for none other"—he frowned, and with some passion emphasised none other—"you are not likely to mistake, you are not likely to give it to another." "But we can't go now. I dassent leave them preserves. If I do Ma'll skin me. Anyways, ain't we goin' to let Elgin an' Fatty in on it, Bill?" Mr Eagle's figure started as he walked. He knew his course to Kingston, Jamaica as intimately well as you know your home when crossing from over the way to it. He ventured to stare at Mr Lawrence, who went on:.
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