This mood of the Admiral's lasted all day. Next morning, at breakfast, he looked up from his bacon, and observed, with the air of a man whose mind is made up—
"Emily, see that the girls have on their best gowns by eleven o'clock sharp. I am going to pay a call."
Consternation sat on every face. Sam Buzza paused in the act of breaking an egg.
"At 'The Bower'?" he asked.
"At 'The Bower.'"
Mrs. Buzza clasped her hands nervously. The girls turned pale.
"Oh, very well," said Sam, tapping his egg. "I shouldn't wonder if I turned up while you were there."
He was a light-haired, ungainly youth, of about twenty, with a reputation for singing a comic song. It was understood that the Admiral designed him for College and Holy Orders, but meanwhile time was passing, and Sam sat "with idle hands at home," or more frequently, in the bar of the "Man-o'-War."
"You!" exclaimed his father.
"Well, I don't see what there is in that to be surprised about," replied the youth, with an aggrieved air. "I met the Honourable Frederic smoking a cigar out on the Rope-walk last night. His cigars are very good; and he asked me to drop in soon and try another. He isn't a bit stuck-up."