While they were laughing, the young clerk looked in and said, “Captain Dodd, to speak with you, sir!”
“Captain Dodd!!!” And all Mr. Hardie's forced merriment died away, and his face betrayed his vexation for once. “Did you go and tell him I was here?”
“Yes, sir: I had no orders; and he said you would be sure to see him.”
“Unfortunate! Well, you may show him in when I ring your bell.”
The youngster being gone, Mr. Hardie explained to his new ally in a few hurried words the danger that threatened him from Miss Julia Dodd. “And now,” said he, “the women have sent her father to soften his. I shall be told his girl will die if she can't have my boy, &c. As if I care who lives or dies.”
On this Skinner got up all in a hurry and offered to go into the office.
“On no account,” said Mr. Hardie sharply. “I shall make my business with you the excuse for cutting this love-nonsense mighty short. Take your book to the desk, and seem buried in it.”
He then touched the bell, and both confederates fell into an attitude: never were a pair so bent over their little accounts—lies, like themselves.
Instead of the heart-broken father their comedy awaited, in came the gallant sailor with a brown cheek reddened by triumph and excitement and almost shouted in a genial jocund voice, “How d'ye do sir? It is a long time since I came across your hawse.” And with this he held out his hand cordially. Hardie gave his mechanically, and remained on his guard, but somewhat puzzled. Dodd shook his cold hand heartily. “Well, sir, here I am, just come ashore, and visiting you before my very wife; what d'ye think of that?”
“I am highly honoured, sir,” said Hardie: then, rather stiffly and incredulously, “and to what may I owe this extraordinary preference? Will you be good enough to state the purport of this visit—briefly—as Mr. Skinner and I are much occupied?”