THE CAPTAIN SPEAKS HIS MIND.

If Miss Charlotte Carlaw, through all her strange life, had lived for such pleasures as she might manage to squeeze out of each day, with the aid of her wealth, it may be said that with Comethup’s appearance she began to live for the gratification of her vanity in regard to the boy. She was fiercely jealous of him—jealous almost of any thought he gave to any one but herself; and yet she was as jealous, on the other hand, for his success in attracting notice, and in winning that very admiration the expression of which aroused her jealousy. She was torn always between two feelings in regard to him: she must be first and everything in his life; and yet others must worship him, and hold him, if possible, to be first in theirs.

It was a strange, unnatural life for a child. He saw no one of his own age; he was waited on, at every hour of the day, by bowing, obsequious men and women, to whom often he would have been glad, but for the fear of his aunt, to be on a more friendly footing, and to have chatted naturally with; he met strange people, day after day, who talked of things he could not understand; and, despite all that was done for him, it must be confessed that he was often desperately lonely.

Tutors had been provided for him, not only for elementary subjects, but for music and painting and other accomplishments. He had a passionate desire to learn, to become a great and clever man, if it were possible, although, of course, with the inconstancy of childhood, he changed his ideas of a profession at least once in every twenty-four hours. But of all the strange, unnatural life he led, perhaps the strangest and most unnatural times of all were some of the nights he spent with his aunt’s guests.

For it must be said at once that Miss Charlotte Carlaw had not been dubbed eccentric for nothing. The one passion of her life had been to be amused. A creature of moods, subject to horrible fits of depression and melancholy, she sought eagerly, and had sought all her days, for something to keep her mind employed and to drive away dulness. Her first dinner party had been highly respectable, because it was necessary that Comethup should be seen and valued by the best people; but some of the subsequent ones were of a different order altogether.

Comethup thought that that second order of gathering was a much more jolly function than the first—the men were so very amusing and laughed so heartily, and were such jovial good fellows, and the women were so very, very pretty, and had such bright eyes. Then, too, at those gatherings everybody seemed to talk at once and to shout out the most extraordinary things, with roars of laughter to accompany each speech or story. The stories Comethup did not understand in the least, which perhaps was well for him. Again, they had a delightful fashion, both men and women, of calling each other by their Christian names, which Comethup thought was very nice and familiar, and saved a lot of trouble.

But it was after dinner that the real excitement of the evening began, for the ladies—there were always a less number of ladies than gentlemen—did not go into the drawing room, as on the more formal occasions; they stopped and chatted, while the gentlemen smoked. Indeed, some of the ladies puffed a cigarette in the most natural manner, quite as though they liked it, and then, later on, they would all troop noisily into the drawing room, Comethup and his aunt leading the way; and there mysterious games were played.

To his utter astonishment, he discovered that his aunt was a most wonderful card-player; she had the cards pricked through, in some curious fashion, so that she knew unerringly what each was by the lightest touch; and she was said, by all who knew her, to be a most formidable antagonist. Certainly she took the keenest delight in every game, and staked largely. Indeed, they all did that, and Comethup soon ceased to think with any surprise of the sums which changed hands in one evening.

Then, too, there were other mysterious games played—some on a green table with squares marked upon it—games at which every one grew very eager indeed, and some of them very silent. There were beautiful little square cubes, with dots marked upon them, which were shaken up in a silver-mounted box and turned out on a table amid shouts and exclamations and mutterings; and all the time, in every game, the money clinked and rattled and changed about from one to the other.

One night Miss Carlaw suddenly called out his name, and he went to her. “Here, we can’t have Prince Charming standing about looking at others playing. He’s the master here, and, by the Lord! he shall play himself. Turn out your pockets; let’s see what money you’ve got. I have had the devil’s own luck to-night, and perhaps you’ll be able to fleece some of these good folk too. Turn out your pockets, you rascal!”

The boy did as he was told, and she counted it rapidly over, touching each piece with her fingers. Then she took some coins from a pile of gold and silver before her and added it to Comethup’s stock, and thrust the whole lot in his hand.

“There, take that and sit down here. If you’re sharp you’ll soon get into the way of it; and if any of these people take advantage of your youth and innocence, I’ll be the death of them. Now, boys and girls, on we go again!”

Comethup, child though he was, soon got into the excitement of the thing. With promptings from the others, he learned what to do and what to say, and, fortune favouring him, he went to his room that night with his stock of money still further increased. Altogether, he thought it was rather a glorious business, and couldn’t quite understand why some of the men wore sour looks when they went away.

It became quite a regular thing for the child to take his place among those excited, eager gamblers. Time after time he went to bed in the small hours of the morning, sometimes so worn out that he was glad to let the sympathetic Gwilt undress him and lift him into bed. Sometimes he made horrible blunders with the cards and lost heavily; sometimes he won. But, under any circumstances, it did not affect him, for his aunt was careful to see that he always had plenty of money.

They drove out nearly every day, and seemed to spend a great part of their time in shops. Miss Charlotte Carlaw had a perfect passion for buying. Anything that was pointed out to her, and of which she approved, or anything that the boy noticed, was bought at once. She encouraged Comethup to spend his money royally, and never hesitated for an instant about anything she thought he would like, however costly it might be. The whirl and the excitement and the intoxication of the new life were upon him, so that he had but little time for thought; yet sometimes he found his thoughts straying back to the simple life in the old town, which seemed all so very far away, and to the simple people he had known and loved there. He ventured to approach his aunt on the subject one day when they were alone.

“Aunt, I’ve been thinking—about the captain,” he began timidly.

“What captain?” she asked sharply.

“The captain—Captain Garraway-Kyle. You remember he was very kind to me.”

“Ah! So you’re getting tired of me, are you?”

“Indeed, no,” said Comethup. “I’m sure you don’t think that. But I’ve thought of the captain very often, and I shouldn’t like him to think that I’d forgotten him. Besides, you asked him to come and see me yourself.”

“Quite right, Comethup, quite right. I’m a foolish old woman, and you’re a good fellow not to forget your old friend. Write to him to-night, and ask him to come here and stay as long as he likes. Tell him to let you know by what train he is coming, and on what day, and you can drive down to the station to meet him. Will that satisfy you?”

Comethup thanked her gratefully, and wrote to the captain within the hour, begging him to come to town at the earliest possible moment and to stay as long as he could. He wrote the letter very carefully, and scanned it anxiously afterward; but finally sent it, and began to count the hours before a reply could be received. He began, too, to arrange what should be done for the captain’s entertainment when he arrived.

Two days elapsed, and then there came a letter addressed to Master Comethup Willis in a small, stiff, rather cramped handwriting. The letter was brought to him while he sat at breakfast with his aunt; he tore it open eagerly, and exclaimed at once, “Oh, he’s coming, he’s coming!”

“The captain?” inquired his aunt.

“Yes. He writes very nicely. He says he will be most—where is it?—oh, he says he’ll be ‘most delighted to accept, and will come on Thursday’; that’s to-morrow. He’s very particular; he’s written quite plainly the name of the station, and the time the train arrives.”

“Well, order the carriage, and go down to meet him. And don’t forget you’re to give him a good time while he’s in London; if you think he’d like to go to any particular place, take him there. You ought to know by this time that you can do as you like in those matters. Besides, I want the captain to understand who Prince Charming is, and what position he takes. You’d better interview Mrs. Currie, and tell her a gentleman is coming to stay with you, and that she is to make arrangements about his room. Give your orders, Prince Charming, give your orders.”

It happened that on the day fixed for the captain’s arrival a dinner party had been arranged at Miss Charlotte Carlaw’s house—a dinner party of the more riotous kind. The captain had decided upon so late a train that he reached London but little before the dinner hour. Comethup, who was to play his usual part in the festivities, had to be dressed in all his glory before setting out for the station; there would have been no time for dressing afterward. Thus it happened that the simple old gentleman, stepping out of the railway carriage in the dusk of an autumn evening, was confronted by a gaily dressed little figure in the costume, on a miniature scale, of a gallant of the days of Charles I, with plumed hat and lace ruffles and everything complete. Beside this figure stood a tall footman.

The captain had some difficulty in recognising his young friend, and, even when he did so, he did not appear to be quite at his ease. The footman who took his small portmanteau from his hand evidently overawed him; it is impossible to say what dream the captain had had as he travelled to town, but it is certain that he had not expected to meet the child in this fashion.

Comethup got into the carriage, and it was only then that they really began to talk to each other. Comethup had slipped one hand timidly into the captain’s and the captain’s fingers had closed over it; the man looked down at the child beside him.

“Well, little friend!” he said.

“Oh, sir,” said Comethup, with a deep sigh of content, “you don’t know how glad I am to see you! It seemed such a long time before your letter came; I thought all sorts of horrible things must have happened—that you had gone away—or—or anything. But it’s all right now, and I’m so glad you’ve come.”

“That’s good, Comethup, that’s good,” murmured the captain, more moved than he cared to show. “This is quite a holiday for me, and we must make the most of it, eh?”

“Oh, yes, we’ve arranged lots of things for you, so as to give you what aunt calls a good time while you’re in London. There’s a dinner party to-night—that’s why I was obliged to come looking such a swell, as aunt calls it; I didn’t mean to come to meet you like this, you know, but there wouldn’t have been time to dress after I got back—and a lot of nice people are coming; you will enjoy yourself.”

“I hope so, I’m sure,” said the captain. “And I’m sure I don’t mind you’re being a swell in the least, Comethup. I suppose,” he added, a little wistfully, “I suppose your aunt is very good to you?”

Comethup nodded and laughed. “There never was anybody half so good—except you, sir, of course. She gives me everything I want, and some things that I scarcely want at all. It’s really quite wonderful; I really didn’t think anybody could have so much money.”

“And you’re quite happy?” asked the captain.

“Y—yes,” replied Comethup, after turning the matter over in his mind for a moment. “You see, I can’t help thinking sometimes about you, and ’Linda, and——”

“Ah, that reminds me,” said the captain. “I saw ’Linda to-day, and told her I was coming to see you. She sends her love to you; I think she would have liked to come with me.”

The carriage drew up at the house, and the captain alighted. He held himself very erect, shabby little figure that he was, as he went up the steps and into the house. He was conducted at once to the room which had been set apart for him, and presently made his appearance in the drawing room, where quite a number of people had already assembled, and approached Miss Carlaw. She stood, as usual, with her hand on the boy’s shoulder. She seemed to know the captain’s step at once, and greeted him cordially.

“Well, captain, so you’ve really come to see how Prince Charming likes his kingdom? What do you think of him now, eh? Are you prepared, like every other Jack and Jill, to prostrate yourself and worship? What do you think of him?”

“I think he looks—looks very well,” said the captain.

“He’s reason to be,” she retorted, with a little note of defiance in her voice. “Prince Charming knows he’s only got to clap his hands, and his foolish old fairy godmother will get whatever he wants, if it’s to come from the other end of the world. Oh, we do things properly here, I’ll warrant you, sir—don’t we, my prince?”

Comethup took his usual place at table, at the opposite end to his aunt, and had the captain at his right hand. The boy, young as he was, could not but remark to himself what an incongruous figure the captain cut in that assembly; his quiet, delicate, old-world face and manner contrasted so strongly with the faces about him; his dress, perfectly neat though it was, seemed to belong to a bygone day when compared with theirs. Once or twice, too, when things were said and stories told which Comethup did not understand, the captain was the only one who did not laugh; indeed, he stiffened a little in his chair, and once laid his hand upon Comethup’s, where it rested on the table, and pressed it slightly, as though in sympathy.

Miss Charlotte Carlaw had been in a strange mood all the evening, had told her wildest stories, had laughed more loudly than any of her guests. After the men had lighted their cigars and cigarettes, and some of the women had begun also to smoke, she suddenly clapped her hands and cried out: “Where’s Prince Charming?—Come here, you dog, I want you.”

The captain, watching her after the boy had run to her, saw her with her arm about him, whispering something to him, insisting upon something; the child was hanging back and blushing, and pleading with her, also in a whisper. At last he laughed, and appeared to consent. She clasped her hands again, and cried for silence.

“Silence for Prince Charming! Boys and girls, you have not yet learned all our prince’s accomplishments. He can play like a born gambler; he can whisper a pretty speech in a lady’s ear; now you shall hear him sing. Oh, you need not be afraid; he has lessons daily from one of the best masters.—Come, up with you, Comethup!”

One of the men caught him up and put him on the table just in front of his aunt; she held one of his legs, so that he might not overbalance. One of the ladies ran to the piano and played a few notes, and then Comethup, very timidly at first, but more boldly as he went on, sang his song.

It was a foolish thing for a child to sing under any circumstances—a riotous chant of drinking, and women’s eyes, and red lips, and what not; but it had a rousing refrain, and after he had sung it once, they all stood up, shouting, with their glasses in their hands, and roared it all over again. Comethup, for his part, seemed to see none of them; he sang with all his might and main and put his heart into the wretched ditty, and he sang to the captain. And the captain sat still, with his head resting on his hand, and watched him.

The uproar as he finished was deafening, and as they trooped into the drawing room two of the men carried him shoulder-high between them, and some one started to sing, “For he’s a jolly good fellow.” It was taken up by them all except, perhaps, by the captain, who walked quietly along in the rear.

The cards and dice were got out at once, and Miss Carlaw plunged into the game. Comethup had slipped away, and had stolen over to where the captain sat apart; he drew near him, and the old man put his arm about him and held him close, without speaking. Presently, however, Miss Carlaw remembered the boy, and stopped her game to call aloud for him.

“Where’s Comethup? He’s been winning people’s money all the week, now he’s got to give them a chance of revenge.—A man can’t slink away with full pockets, you know, Prince Charming. Where are you? Come and take a hand here at once.”

The boy rose obediently, and the captain rose with him. Indeed, the captain walked with him to Miss Carlaw’s side, and then ventured to interpose, in a low voice, “You surely do not let this child play, madam, and for money?”

She turned her face up to him, with a frown upon it. “And why not, pray? He’s got money enough and to spare; let him win or lose as he will. Don’t spoil sport, captain; sit down, and take a hand yourself.”

“No, no; I am but a poor gentleman, and have nothing to lose; it is as well to be frank on such matters.” He turned and walked back to his former place, changed his mind, and came back to watch the child play.

Comethup was in luck that night; more than once Miss Carlaw patted his shoulder approvingly when the money was pushed toward him. When at last play was finished, and the guests had departed, the captain lingered a little uneasily, glancing once or twice at the old woman, as though he wished to speak. Perhaps she guessed his intention, for she kept her hand obstinately on Comethup’s shoulder and said pointedly: “Well, I suppose we’re all tired, and had better get to bed.—Why, you’re quite sleepy, Prince Charming.”

The captain raised his head. “If you would spare me a matter of five minutes, madam, I should be glad. There is something I wish to say——”

“What, at this time of night? Won’t it keep till morning?”

“I’m afraid not,” replied the captain, quietly.

“Just like a man—so devilish unreasonable! Very well, let’s have it.”

“Not before the child,” said the captain, in the same tone as before.

“Oh! You seem determined to have your own way, so I suppose I must humour you. If I fall asleep, don’t accuse me of rudeness.—Prince Charming, go to bed.”

Comethup, wondering a little, kissed his aunt and gravely shook hands with the captain. When he had gone, and the door was closed, Miss Carlaw seated herself, rested her hands on the top of her stick and her chin on her hands, and waited for the captain to begin. He seemed somewhat at a loss, and paced about nervously for a few moments before speaking.

“Miss Carlaw, what I am—about to say—may appear—I fear it must—in the light of an impertinence. I know that I have no right to say anything, no right to interfere; but I happen, lonely old fellow though I am, to have a great affection for this child you have so generously taken under your care.” The captain paused for a moment and then swung round and spoke almost fiercely, “In God’s name, madam, what are you making of him?”

“That’s good,” said Miss Carlaw, in a tone of approval. “I like a man to come to the point and hit out straight. So you want to know what I’m making of him, do you?” She started up from her chair, and advanced toward the captain threateningly. “I’ll tell you, sir. I’m making a gentleman of him; I’m showing him what the world is like, and——”

“The worst side of the world, madam,” said the captain, indignantly.

“It’s good enough for me,” she retorted.

“That may be; you are a woman of the world, and can choose for yourself. This child is helpless; his fresh young mind can take in everything he sees about him. You stand at the present moment as everything to him—his benefactress, almost his goddess. What you do must be right, simply because you do it. You told me just now that you were training this boy to be a gentleman; I tell you, madam, you are training him to be a blackguard, and probably worse, if there is anything worse.”

Miss Carlaw had stopped, and was listening intently. Her brows were drawn down, but she nodded sternly as the captain finished speaking. “Go on, sir,” she said.

“I’ve known this boy, madam, since he was a baby—he’s little more than a baby now—and I’ve never found a sweeter, cleaner, purer soul on this muddy old earth of ours yet. He turns naturally to sweet things, to everything that has the sunlight and free air upon it; he’s as clear as crystal. Think of his age, madam! Is it an age when he should be mixing with men and women—forgive the discourtesy, I beg of you—with men and women not too choice in their conversation or their manners? Is it an age when he should be gambling and tossing gold about at an hour when he should be in bed? Believe me, I do not stand before you as a prig, or as one who would have a word to say against anything in its proper place or its proper season; you choose your own guests, and your choice is doubtless a right one, for every man and every woman chooses in this world according to his or her need. But with this boy—this baby—it’s different. His soul is in your hands, to do what you will with it. And I say, frankly, madam, that you are doing with it badly.”

She did not speak; she turned about, and went to her chair and sat down in the same attitude as before, except that she rested her forehead on her hands instead of her chin. After a pause the captain spoke again.

“I trust—I beg that you will forgive me if anything I have said appears harsh. I am not used to women’s ways, and have been but little in their society, but I have spoken out of the depths of my heart. It hurt me when the child left me, but I was glad, for his sake, and I readily recognise the unstinted generosity you appear to display toward him. But, madam, I entreat you to remember not only the child, but the man who is growing up under your hands.”

She sat for a long time in the same attitude, and when, presently, she raised her head and spoke, he saw with contrition that her lips were quivering; she even stretched one hand toward him for a moment, as though to ask his pardon.

“You’re a good man,” she said, in a curiously altered voice. “And I am—well, I’m a wicked old fool. I’ve been treating this child like a toy, holding him before all my friends, that they might see what a beautiful thing I had managed to secure. Friends, indeed!” she cried, fiercely, getting up and beginning to pace about, “there isn’t one of them I care a brass farthing for; there isn’t one of them I wouldn’t show the door to-morrow. Oh, you’re right; you’re very right, and I’m a monster. I’ve been given this glorious thing from God, and I don’t even know how to take care of it. Captain, I’m sorry to think, from what I know of the world, that there are very few men who would have been brave enough to say what you have said to-night. But there’s a Providence in your coming—a Providence that set the boy longing to see you. I—I am more glad than I can say that you came here. I’ve been blind—blind in two senses—but I’ll end it. By the Lord! I’ll make this boy what you say he should be; he sha’n’t minister to my whims any longer.” She began to laugh, and shook her head at him whimsically. “Oh, I like you; it’s refreshing to meet a man like you occasionally—you’re precious rare. By George! you did more for the boy than I did, and knew more about him—upon my word you did. Oh, I’ll be good to him, I’ll be proud of him. I want—I want to think about all this; and then I’ll talk to you about what’s best to be done for him. Give me your hand. Will you promise to stay here a week at least—now, I’ll take no denial—a week at least? It’ll make the boy happy, and it’ll do him good, and it’ll take him away from me, which’ll do him good too.”

“Then I won’t stay,” said the captain, with a smile.

“Very well then,” she exclaimed, “we’ll do what we can with him together. Oh, you needn’t be afraid; I haven’t spoiled him yet. But you’ve got to advise me what to do. It’s evident, although it hurts me to say it, that I’m no good at the game.”

So the captain remained in town for a week, while Comethup’s fate was decided. Long discussions were held late at night, after he had gone to bed, between Miss Carlaw and his earlier friend. During the day the boy, blissfully unconscious of any change being contemplated, drove about with the captain and his aunt to every conceivable quarter of London, in the frantic desire to give the captain what he called “a good time.” It often happened that they drifted, quite naturally, toward one of the large barracks, or down to the Horse Guards, where the captain cocked his head knowingly and became at once, in the eyes of his admiring young friend, an expert; indeed, the mere passing of a soldier in the streets stiffened the little old gentleman’s figure and gave a sternness to his eyes, which showed, Comethup thought, that he ought really to have been a very great and very wonderful general indeed.

No more dinner parties were given during that week; but once or twice the three, after dining together, went to a theatre, Miss Carlaw appearing to understand the play, whatever it might be, quite as clearly as her companions. She had a wonderful faculty for locating a voice; and when once Comethup, in a rapid whisper, had explained to her what the scene was, she appeared to know exactly where each particular character came on, and how he or she moved about, and when they made their exits. It was truly wonderful, and Comethup lost a great part of the real business of the stage by watching her eager, listening face, and wondering that the loss of her eyes was really so little of a loss after all.

The captain’s visit was drawing to a close when one evening after dinner Miss Carlaw turned to him and waved a hand toward the boy, and said abruptly, “Now tell him all about it.”

Comethup looked from one to the other, while the captain cleared his throat and coughed, flushed a little, and drew himself up in his chair. Miss Carlaw waited impatiently, lightly tapping her fingers on the table before her. At last the captain spoke.

“You must know, Comethup, that your aunt, Miss Carlaw”—he bowed with much ceremony toward that lady—“your aunt has been good enough to ask my advice, and to place some confidence in me, in regard to your future. Of course, Comethup, I need hardly say that she is far more competent than I can hope to be to——”

“No, no,” ejaculated Miss Carlaw, shaking her head vigorously. “But go on.”

“To put the matter briefly, my dear boy, your aunt feels that there is not only a time for play but a time for work. We are both very proud of you; we hope to be prouder still. No man can do anything in this world unless he learns to work; unless he learns to fight his way with others, and find out what the world is like, and learn some of its lessons.”

“Well put, captain, excellently put,” interrupted Miss Carlaw again.

“To come to the point, Comethup, your aunt thinks that it would be wiser for you to mix with boys of your own age, and she intends to send you to school. She has already selected a good school, and——”

“And look here, Prince Charming,” broke in the old woman, “I think I know my boy well enough by this time to know that he’ll do whatever we think best, for his own sake as well as for ours. The captain here has told you very prettily why we think it’s necessary; just let me say that if you don’t like it when you get there, you can just come straight back again. I’m sure you’re brave enough to like it, and to make the best of it, although you’re only a little chap. And you shall come to me every holiday—oh, they’ve got precious long holidays, I can tell you—and you shall see the captain whenever you like. This school is only a few miles from your old home, and is right close to the sea. Of course I don’t know, but I should think it’s extremely likely that our good friend here might find time to run over to see you occasionally on half holidays.”

“Most assuredly,” said the captain.

“Well, what do you say to it all?” inquired Miss Carlaw.

Comethup’s heart had been beating a little faster than usual while they spoke; but the prospect was really more alluring than they thought, and the pill they desired him to swallow needed no gilding, for the boy’s life had been recently an unnatural one—strange and wonderful, but still unnatural; and the prospect of meeting boys of his own age, the greater prospect of learning something, and becoming a clever man, made his heart leap indeed. Then, too, the thought of frequently meeting the captain, of being within but a few miles of him, was attractive; he could scarcely hope for better fortune. After a pause he said slowly: “Of course, I should like to go to school, and—and learn; and it would be nice to see the captain, and to come back to you for the holidays. I’m quite sure I should like it.”

Miss Carlaw clapped her hands and smiled. The captain nodded at the boy approvingly. “I knew just what he’d say,” exclaimed Miss Carlaw.—“Come here, Prince Charming.”

The boy slipped down from his seat and went to her side. She drew her arm about him and said, with a tenderness that was strange to her: “You mustn’t think, Comethup, that I want to get rid of you—God forbid! But you’re all I have in the world, all I’ve got to think of or to be proud of. And I want you to be a clever man; I want to be able to point to you and say: ‘There’s my boy; match him if you can!’ That’s what I want to think. And so you’ll work hard and grow fast, and this foolish old aunt of yours will wait at home in patience until you come back to her.” Her voice had fallen almost to a whisper, and he felt her lips lightly touch his hair before she pushed him gently from her.

The final details were arranged on the morrow, not without conflicts between Miss Carlaw and the captain. The old lady would have sent the boy to school dressed as a prince; the captain was for plain clothes in order that there might be no distinction between him and his fellows, and the captain had his way. The next serious point of difference was on the question of pocket money, Miss Carlaw having firmly made up her mind that the boy must be possessed of no less a sum than a sovereign a week, and the captain urging that a half-crown would be more than he possibly could spend. The two worthy creatures came to high words over the matter, and finally arrived at a compromise: Comethup was to have five shillings a week, and the captain exacted a promise from Miss Carlaw that this was not to be supplemented by any additional sum, at all events for the present.

It had been arranged that the captain was to accompany the boy to the school and see him safely established there; it was scarcely necessary for Miss Carlaw to go, when the place was really almost on the captain’s road home. The captain, proud of having got his own way in the matter, and prouder still of his mission, was very particular in discussing matters with the principal of the school about the airing of beds and the arrangements generally for the boy’s comfort; quite gave himself airs, in a gentlemanly fashion, over the matter. But when it was all done and the two had parted at the school gate, and the captain had watched the figure of the child going back slowly across the deserted playground to his new life, the little gentleman drooped a little, and was not so cheery or confident as he had been; lingered about so long, indeed, near the gate, that he nearly lost the last train to the dull little town in which he lived, and had to make a run for it.