"Ay, to be sure, so we can," nodded the Captain, "but oh! sink me,—I say sink and scuttle me, the audacity of it! I say he's a cool, impudent, audacious fellow!"
"Yes, dear, indeed I think he's all that," said my lady, nodding her head at Barnabas very decidedly, "and I forgot to tell you that beside all this, he is the—gentleman who—saved me from my folly to-night, and brought me back to you."
"Eh? eh?" cried the Captain, staring.
"Yes, dear, and this is he who—" But here she drew down her tyrant's gray head, and whispered three words in his ear. Whatever she said it affected the Captain mightily, for his frown changed suddenly into his youthful smile, and reaching out impulsively, he grasped Barnabas by the hand.
"Aha, sir!" said he, "you have a good, big fist here!"
"Indeed," said Barnabas, glancing down at it somewhat ruefully, "it is—very large, I fear."
"Over large, sir!" says my lady, also regarding it, and with her head at a critical angle, "it could never be called—an elegant hand, could it?"
"Elegant!" snorted the Captain, "I say pooh! I say pish! Sir, you must come in and sup with us, my house is near by. Good English beef and ale, sir."
Barnabas hesitated, and glanced toward Cleone, but her face was hidden in the shadow of her hood, wherefore his look presently wandered to the finger-post, near by, upon whose battered sign he read the words:—