“’Pon honour, Miss Mitford, I—”
“No more, Captain Hardy. There?” she added, handing him a little packet, “they are of all the new colours, too.”
“Well, well, well, I daresay they are delightfully pretty, but I’m sure I sha’n’t remember the names of one-half of them.”
“And when do you sail?”
“Oh, I was going to tell you. The Inuita is going first this year. Will be first among the seals, Miss Mitford, and first home.”
“And I trust with a full ship.”
“God bless you for saying that, my birdie. Well, we’re off the day after to-morrow at four o’clock. Good-bye; come and see you again before I sail.”
And off dashed Captain Hardy of the good ship Inuita.
A great kindly-eyed man he was, with an enormous brown beard, which I daresay he oiled, for it glittered in the winter sunshine like the back of a boatman beetle.
“One of the best-hearted men that ever lived,” said Miss Mitford to Harry, as soon as he was gone; “strict in discipline, though; but his officers and men all love him, and he has the same first mate every year. May Providence protect the dear man, for he has a wild and stormy sea to cross!”