Comethup, for his part, tried once or twice to break the matter; he was not very definite in his ideas about it at all yet; he only knew that his aunt practically claimed him, and that she was not likely to remain in the old town with him. He watched the captain nervously, and was quite glad at last when that gentleman opened the matter.
“Rather strange lady, your aunt, eh?” he began.
“Yes,” replied Comethup. “But very kind, sir, I think.”
“I’ve no doubt of it,” said the captain, heartily. “She certainly appears to be very good-hearted.”
There was another long pause, and then Comethup said, “She means—means to be very kind to me, sir.”
“Ah!” The captain nodded, and then added, with what cheerfulness he might: “That’s good; that’s very good, Comethup.”
Comethup swallowed the lump in his throat and looked at the captain wistfully. “She says—says she’s going to look after me.”
The captain nodded again, but did not speak; he turned his head and looked out of the window at the sky.
“I hope—I’m afraid—afraid she may mean me to go away with her.” It was out at last, and Comethup waited breathlessly for the captain to speak. But the captain merely stood up and murmured the words of the simple grace which closed each meal, and then walked across to the window. He stood there looking out for a long time, and finally twisted round and spoke a little more sharply than usual, perhaps to hide that which he did not care to show.