“She is at an age when she wants—someone to watch over her,” said the old Captain. “She is very sweet—and very handsome, Captain Despard.”
“Is she?” said the other, indifferently. “A child, my dear sir, nothing more than a child; but good looks belong to her mother’s family—without thinking of my own side of the house.”
“She is very handsome. A mother is a great loss to a girl at that age.”
“You think it is a want that ought to be supplied,” said Captain Despard, with a laugh, stroking his moustache. “Perhaps you are right—perhaps you are right. Such an idea, I allow, has several times crossed my own mind.”
“Despard,” said another voice, behind him, “I’ve got something to say to ye. When ye’re at leisure, me dear fellow, step into my place.”
“Don’t let me detain you,” said the other old man, hurrying away. His kind stratagem had not succeeded. He was half sorry—and yet, as he had already prophesied its failure to his wife, he was not so much displeased after all. Major O’Shaughnessy, who was a heavy personage, hobbled round to the other side.
“Despard,” he said, “me dear friend! I’ve got something to say to you. It’s about Lottie, me boy.”
“About Lottie?—more communications about Lottie. I’ve had about enough of her, O’Shaughnessy. There is that solemn old idiot asking if he may escort her when she goes anywhere. Is he going to give his wife poison, and offer himself to me as a son-in-law?” said the Captain, with a laugh.
“I’ll go bail he didn’t tell you what I’m going to tell you. Listen, Despard. My pretty Lottie—she’s but a child, and she’s as pretty a one as you’d wish to see: well, it’s a lover she’s gone and got for herself. What d’ye think of that? Bless my soul, a lover! What do you make of that, me fine fellow?” cried the Major, rubbing his fat hands. He was large of bulk, like his wife, and round and shining, with a bald head, and large hands that looked bald too.
“Is this a joke?” said the Captain, drawing himself up; “by George I’ll have no jokes about my child.”