“What’s the use of that, when Captain Gordon will not let me go near you. Taking me to that abominable Maplewood last Easter, with half the house shut up, and all horrid! And he is as dry as a stick!”
“The captain!” cried Harry angrily. “There’s not a better captain to sail with in the whole navy, and your brother would be the first to tell you so! I’m not discharged yet. Hector—you had better look out what you say!”
“Maybe he is the best to sail with, but that is not being the best to live with,” said the heir of Maplewood disconsolately. “Alan himself always said he never knew what home was, till he got to your father and Margaret.”
“So will you,” said Harry; “why, my father is your master, or whatever you may call it.”
“No, Captain Gordon is my guardian.”
“Eh! what’s become of the will then?”
“What will?” cried Hector. “Did Alan make one after all?”
“Ay. At Valparaiso, he had a touch of fever; I went ashore to nurse him, to a merchant’s, who took us in for love of our Scottish blood. Mr. Ernescliffe made a will there, and left it in his charge.”
“Do you think he made Dr. May my guardian?”
“He asked me whether I thought he would dislike it, and I told him, no.”