The boy, who had been looking curiously at the stranger, ran up at a sign from his mother. The tall captain lifted him in his arms and gazed in his small, thin face, with which his bright tartan plaid contrasted harshly.
"He hasn't a look of the Thetfords. He is your own son, Ada. My little baronet, what is your name?"
"Sir Rupert Thetford," answered the child, struggling to get free. "Let me go—I don't know you!"
The captain set him down with a grim smile; and the boy clung to his mother's skirts, and eyed the tall stranger askance.
"I want to go home, mamma! I'm tired and hungry."
"Presently, dearest. Run to William, he has cake for you. Captain Everard, I shall be happy to have you at dinner."
"Thanks; but I must decline. I go back to London to-night. I sail for India again in a week."
"So soon! I thought you meant to remain."
"Nothing is further from my intentions. I merely brought my little girl over to provide her a home; that is why I have troubled you. Will you do me this kindness, Lady Thetford?"
"Take your little girl? Oh, most gladly—most willingly!"