“Tut!” said he; “Esther has plenty for us all.”
Dick looked at him with some wonder. It had never dawned upon him that this shiftless, thriftless, worthless, sponging parasite was yet, after all and in spite of all, not mercenary in the issue of his thoughts; yet so it was.
“Now,” said Dick, “I must go.”
“Go?” cried Van Tromp. “Where? Not one foot, Mr. Richard Naseby. Here you shall stay in the meantime! and—well, and do something practical—advertise for a situation as private secretary—and when you have it, go and welcome. But in the meantime, sir, no false pride; we must stay with our friends; we must sponge a while on Papa Van Tromp, who has sponged so often upon us.”
“By God,” cried Dick, “I believe you are the best of the lot.”
“Dick, my boy,” replied the Admiral, winking, “you mark me, I am not the worst.”
“Then why,” began Dick, and then paused. “But Esther,” he began again, once more to interrupt himself. “The fact is, Admiral,” he came out with it roundly now, “your daughter wished to run away from you to-day, and I only brought her back with difficulty.”
“In the pony carriage?” asked the Admiral, with the silliness of extreme surprise.
“Yes,” Dick answered.