“What a fussy old Polonius uncle is getting to be, to be sure! I really think the old man is falling into his dotage,” thought Alick within himself. But he answered aloud:
“A very pleasant programme, sir.”
“Aye, I suppose you young people think it so. I confess I don’t. But, Alick, my boy, I must beg you to forego your gallop to-morrow morning. My old friend—and your late father’s oldest friend—Commodore Storms, is coming to breakfast with me at eight o’clock, and, of course, you must join us. It will be the only chance you will have of seeing him, as he is only passing through the city on his way south, and leaves by the mid-day train to-morrow.”
Alexander stared in dismay, and then inquired:
“Could I not see him to-day, sir?”
“No, he is gone with a party to visit Mount Vernon. Besides, what time have you to do any thing to-day but what is appointed for you?”
“None indeed,” said Alexander with an involuntary sigh, which did not escape the notice of the old man.
“Does it afflict you so much then?” enquired the general.
“What sir?”
“The idea of your giving up your mysterious morning ride for a breakfast with two old Revolutionary relics like the commodore and myself,” answered the general, fixing a scrutinizing gaze upon his nephew’s face.