Rose walked up to him, putting on his best air. Brack saw him and summed him up at once.
"Somebody's flunkey," he thought.
"Are you Mr. Brackish?" asked Rose in a patronizing manner.
"I'm Brack, name Brackish, don't know about the mister, seldom hear it used when I'm addressed. Now who may you be, my good man?" said Brack, mischief lurking in his eyes.
To be addressed by this clod of a boatman as "my good man" quite upset Rose's dignity. He put on a severe look, which did not abash Brack in the least, and said: "I am from Haverton in Yorkshire. I represent Mr. Picton Woodridge. He desired me to see you and deliver this letter," and he handed it to him.
Brack took it, opened the envelope, and handed it back.
"I've lost my glasses," he said; "must have left them in 'The Sailor's Rest' last night. Me an' a mate had a few pints more than we oughter. Why the deuce didn't he post the letter and save you the trouble of comin' to see me?"
"It suited Mr. Woodridge's purpose better that I should personally deliver it. I will read it to you if you wish."
"That's what I gave it to you for," said Brack.
Rose read the letter. It was written in a kind and friendly way; Robert thought it too familiar. Brack listened attentively; at first he hardly grasped the full meaning.