He broke off abruptly as a knock at the door disturbed his cogitations.
Mr. Jem entered with his master's dressing-gown.
The captain threw off his coat, and donned the capacious garment in silence which Jem did not think proper to break.
At last the captain roused from his reverie and turned his attention to his follower.
"Where have you been?"
"Down in the village, captain," said Jem Starling, with a wink. "There's a wery nice little and pretty little creetur in cherry ribbons wot draws a good glass of ale."
The captain nodded, absently.
"Don't be seen there too often, and keep your mouth shut."
"Trust me," said Jem, clicking his tongue against his cheek, with a knowing air. "This old soldier is a very remarkable old soldier, and he's like the parrot—he don't talk much, but he thinks the more."
"You may think as much as you like," said the captain, "but be as moderate in your thinking as your talking, my friend. You had a bad habit, when I knew you in former days, of lifting that elbow of yours too often," and the captain went through the pantomime of a man raising a glass to his lips. "One slip in that direction means ruin, remember, ruin for you as well as me. But, there, I have no wish to worry you. Amuse yourself as you like, so that you keep your mouth shut."