"But Jones!" I cried. "'Ad's heart! could you go no higher? Has your
imagination left you, captain?"

"Republican simplicity, sir," says he, looking a trifle hurt. But I
laughed the more.

"Well, you have contrived to mix oil and vinegar," said I. "A landed
gentleman and republican simplicity. I'll warrant you wear silk-knit
under that gray homespun, and have a cameo in your pocket."

He shook his head, looking up at me with affection.

"You might have guessed better," he answered. "All of quality I have
about me are an enamelled repeater and a gold brooch."

This made me suddenly grave, for McAndrews's words had been ringing in my
ears ever since he had spoken them. I hitched my arm into the captain's
and pulled him toward the Coffee House door.

"Come," I said, "you have not dined, and neither have I. We shall be
merry to-day, and you shall have some of the best Madeira in the
colonies." I commanded a room, that we might have privacy. As he took
his seat opposite me I marked that he had grown heavier and more browned.
But his eye had the same unfathomable mystery in it as of yore. And
first I upbraided him for not having writ me.

"I took you for one who glories in correspondence, captain," said I; "and
I did not think you could be so unfaithful. I directed twice to you in
Mr. Orchardson's care."