“What! have you never heard of a page—a page in buttons?” asked Lewis in surprise.
“Never,” replied the Captain, shaking his head.
“Why, a page is a small boy, usually clad in blue tights, to make him look as like a spider as possible, with three rows of brass buttons up the front of his jacket—two of the rows being merely ornamental, and going over his shoulders. He usually wears a man’s hat for the sake of congruity, and is invariably as full of mischief as an egg is of meat. Can you find such an article?”
“Ha!” exclaimed the Captain. “What is he used for?”
“Chiefly for ornament, doing messages, being in the way when not wanted, and out of the way when required.”
“Yes,” said the Captain, meditatively, “I’ve got my eye—”
“Your weather eye?” asked Lewis.
“Yes, my weather eye, on a lad who’ll fit you.”
“To a tee?” inquired Emma, archly.
“To a tee, miss,” assented the Captain, with a bland smile.