"Although," stammered Mr. Toots, "I had not the pleasure of your acquaintance, Sir, before you were—you were—"
"Lost to sight, to memory dear," suggested the Captain, in a low voice.
"Exactly so, Captain Gills!" assented Mr. Toots. "Although I had not the pleasure of your acquaintance, Mr.—Mr. Sols," said Toots, hitting on that name in the inspiration of a bright idea, "before that happened, I have the greatest pleasure, I assure you, in—you know, in knowing you. I hope," said Mr. Toots, "that you ’re as well as can be expected."
With these courteous words, Mr. Toots sat down blushing and chuckling.
The old Instrument Maker, seated in a corner between Walter and Florence, and nodding at Polly, who was looking on, all smiles and delight, answered the Captain thus:
"Ned Cuttle, my dear boy, although I have heard something of the changes of events here, from my pleasant friend there—what a pleasant face she has to be sure, to welcome a wanderer home!" said the old man, breaking off, and rubbing his hands in his old dreamy way.
"Hear him!" cried the Captain gravely. "’Tis woman as seduces all mankind. For which," aside to Mr. Toots, "you ’ll overhaul your Adam and Eve, brother."
"I shall make a point of doing so, Captain Gills," said Mr. Toots.
"Although I have heard something of the changes of events, from her," resumed the Instrument Maker, taking his old spectacles from his pocket, and putting them on his forehead in his old manner, "they are so great and unexpected, and I am so overpowered by the sight of my dear boy, and by the,"—glancing at the downcast eyes of Florence, and not attempting to finish the sentence—"that I—I can’t say much to-night. But my dear Ned Cuttle, why didn’t you write?"
The astonishment depicted in the Captain’s features positively frightened Mr. Toots, whose eyes were quite fixed by it, so that he could not withdraw them from his face.
"Write!" echoed the Captain. "Write, Sol Gills?"
"Aye," said the old man, "either to Barbados, or Jamaica, or Demerara, that was what I asked."
"What you asked, Sol Gills!" repeated the Captain.
"Aye," said the old man. "Don’t you know, Ned? Sure you have not forgotten? Every time I wrote to you."
The Captain took off his glazed hat, hung it on his hook, and smoothing his hair from behind with his hand, sat gazing at the group around him: a perfect image of wondering resignation.
"You don’t appear to understand me, Ned!" observed old Sol.
"Sol Gills," returned the Captain, after staring at him and the rest for a long time, without speaking, "I’m gone about and adrift. Pay out a word or two respecting them adwenturs, will you! Can’t I bring up, nohows? nohows?" said the Captain, ruminating, and staring all round.
"You know, Ned," said Sol Gills, "why I left here. Did you open my packet, Ned?"
"Why, aye, aye,’ said the Captain. "To be sure, I opened the packet."
"And read it?" said the old man.
