"With the more pleasure, sir, after my experience of the inns in these parts. Though I may have presented her to you in a somewhat romantic light, my Artemisia did know how to make a bed; and twenty-two years of her ministrations, not to mention her companionship, have coddled me in this particular."
"And you, sir"—my father turned to Mr. Fett—"will you accompany us?"
"With what ulterior object?" demanded Mr. Fett. "You will excuse my speaking as a business man, and overlook the damned bad manners of the question for the sake of its pertinence."
My father smiled. "Why, sir, I was proposing to invite you to a sea voyage with me."
"There was a time, before commerce claimed me, when the mere hint of a nautical expedition had evoked an emotion which, if it survive at all, lingers but as in a sea-shell the whisper of the parent ocean."
"As a supercargo, at four shillings per diem," suggested my father.
"Say no more, sir; I am yours."
"As for Mr. Fiennes—nay, lad, I remember you well." My father turned to him with that sweet courtesy which few ever resisted. "And blush not, lad, if I guess that to you we all owe this meeting; 'twere a bravery well beseeming your blood. As for Mr. Fiennes, he will accompany us in heart if he cannot in presence—being, as I understand, destined for the law?"
"Why, sir, as for that," stammered Nat, "I have had the devil's own dispute with my father."
"You treated him with all respect, I hope?"