“Nonsense, man.”
“Ah, but it was; and I tell you what: if it wasn’t for my darling little lassie, I should take to drinking to drown my cares—But, look here, Master Richard—they wanted me to take that name, too—Richard—but I wouldn’t stand that. Well, look here, sir, why don’t you come down, and put your foot in the old place again? What’s being born got to do with it? We couldn’t help being born; we didn’t want to be, I dessay; and we couldn’t help what they did with us in our cradles.”
“Of course not, Humphrey.”
“Well, look here, sir; you grew into a gentleman, I grew into a common man. Well, then, what’s stupider than trying to make me what I didn’t grow into, and you into a common man? It’s rubbish: we’re neither of us no good as we are.”
Richard laughed—rather bitterly, though.
“Polly and I have had it all over, sir. I went down to her school-place, poor little lass. She’s very unhappy, and we came to the conclusion that with the cottage nicely papered and painted, and a hundred a year, we should be as happy as the day’s long. So come, Master Richard—there’s the place nohow for want of you. Come down, and take possession.”
“Humphrey, if ever there was a fellow born with the soul of a gentleman, it’s you. But no; there is such a thing in a man as pride, and I have too much to accept your offer; and, besides, I have made an engagement.”
“Not to be married, sir?”
“No, no; my ship, man, my ship.”
“Oh!” said Humphrey; “because I was thinking, sir. There’s Miss Rea, you know.”