“I declare it never occurred to me to inquire.”
“That's enough,—quite enough; you shall hear from me. It may take me twenty-four hours to find a friend; but before this time to-morrow evening, sir, I 'll have him.”
Maitland shrugged his shoulders carelessly, and said, “As you please, sir.”
“It shall be as I please, sir; I 'll take care of that. Are you able to say at present to whom my friend can address himself?”
“If your friend will first do the favor to call upon me, I 'll be able by that time to inform him.”
“All right. If it's to be Mark Lyle—”
“Certainly not; it could never occur to me to make choice of your friend and neighbor's son for such an office.”
“Well, I thought not,—I hoped not; and I suspected, besides, that the little fellow with the red whiskers—that major who dined one day at the Abbey—”
Maitland's pale cheek grew scarlet, his eyes flashed with passion, and all the consummate calm of his manner gave way as he said, “With the choice of my friend, sir, you have nothing to do, and I decline to confer further with you.”
“Eh, eh! that shell broke in the magazine, did it? I thought it would. I 'll be shot but I thought it would!” And with a hearty laugh, but bitter withal, the old Commodore seized his hat and departed.