"Ah! yes, of course; let us be just—the army captain was a man. Caleb," said Mr. Fogo, with a sudden change from his pensive manner, "has it ever occurred to you to guess why I—not yet an old man, Caleb—am living in this solitude?"
"Beggin' your pard'n, sir, an' makin' so free as to guess, but were it a woman by any chance?"
"Yes," said his master, rising hurriedly and lighting his candle, "it was a woman, Caleb—it was a woman. You won't forget that Notice to-morrow morning, will you?—the first thing, if you please, Caleb."
[1] A cart-load. [(return)]
[2] Dust. [(return)]
[3] Playing truant. [(return)]
[4] Sloe. [(return)]
[5] Heather-coloured. [(return)]
[6] Two-faced. Qy. from Janus? [(return)]
[7] Prying, looking about. [(return)]
[8] Nonsense. [(return)]
[9] Crockery. Drinking in Troy is euphemistically called "emptyin' cloam." [(return)]
[10] Boldness, forwardness. [(return)]
[11] A fairy. [(return)]
[12] Farm-yard. [(return)]
[13] Noise, tumult. [(return)]
[14] Demented, imbecile. [(return)]
[15] Died. [(return)]
CHAPTER XII.
OF DETERIORATION; AND A WHEELBARROW
THAT CONTAINED UNEXPECTED THINGS.
Great events meanwhile were happening in Troy. On the eighth morning of his eclipse Admiral Buzza was startled by a brisk step upon the stairs; the devil's tattoo was neatly struck upon his bed-room door, and the head of Mr. Goodwyn-Sandys looked in.
"Ah! Admiral, here you are; like What's-his-name in the ruins of Thingummy. You'll pardon me coming up, but my wife is downstairs with Mrs. Buzza, and I was told I should find you here. Don't rise— 'no dress,' as they say. May I smoke? Thanks. And how are you by this time? I heard something of your mishap, but not the rights of it. I'll sit down, and you can tell me all about it."
Here was affability indeed. The Admiral conquered his first impulse of diving beneath the bed-clothes, and, lying back, recounted his misadventure at some length. The Honourable Frederic listened and smoked with perfect gravity. At the close he said—