“Oh! I beg your pardon, Captain, but you mayn’t be in want of any pigeons, may you, Sir?”
“No, my lad,” replied the Captain.
“Because I was wishing to dispose of mine, Captain,” said Rob.
“Ay, ay?” cried the Captain, lifting up his bushy eyebrows a little.
“Yes; I’m going, Captain, if you please,” said Rob.
“Going? Where are you going?” asked the Captain, looking round at him over the glasses.
“What? didn’t you know that I was going to leave you, Captain?” asked Rob, with a sneaking smile.
The Captain put down the paper, took off his spectacles, and brought his eyes to bear on the deserter.
“Oh yes, Captain, I am going to give you warning. I thought you’d have known that beforehand, perhaps,” said Rob, rubbing his hands, and getting up. “If you could be so good as provide yourself soon, Captain, it would be a great convenience to me. You couldn’t provide yourself by to-morrow morning, I am afraid, Captain: could you, do you think?”
“And you’re a going to desert your colours, are you, my lad?” said the Captain, after a long examination of his face.