'We must have the old castle more comfortable; I will try to send up
some furniture from below,' he remarked, while pacing to and fro in
the evening.

'Isn't it comfortable now?' said Silver. 'I am sure I always thought
this room beautiful.'

'What, this clumsy imitation of a second-class Western steamer?
Child, it is hideous!'

'Is it?' said Silver, looking around in innocent surprise, while Fog
listened in silence. Hours of patient labor and risks not a few over
the stormy lake were associated with each one of the articles Waring
so cavalierly condemned.

Then it was, 'How you do look, old gentleman! I must really send you
up some new clothes.--Silver, how have you been able to endure such
shabby rags so long?'

'I do not know,--I never noticed; it was always just papa, you know,'
replied Silver, her blue eyes resting on the old man's clothes with a
new and perplexed attention.

But Fog bore himself cheerily. 'He is right, Silver,' he said, 'I am
shabby indeed. But when you go out into the world, you will soon
forget it.'

'Yes,' said Silver, tranquilly.

The days flew by and the ice moved out. This is the phrase that is