"Have you no better clothes than what you wear?" he said.
"No, sir."
"You may give an order for a suit of decent apparel fit to wait at table with, for I want you to understand that your duties may bring you to wait upon ladies and gentlemen, though you know nothing about that. Do you hear?"
"Ay, your honour," answered the fellow with a grin decidedly above a clown's intelligence.
"You can pay for the clothes on your return, or by drawing an advance which Mr Acton's manager will let you have. Do you know Miss Acton?"
"The lady that lives at Old Harbour House along with Capt'n Acton?" answered Paul.
"I mean Captain Acton's daughter."
"I should think I do, sir," answered Paul, grinning.
"You know her well enough, for example," said Mr Lawrence, critically surveying him as though he took counsel within himself whilst he talked, "that if I gave you a letter for her and for none other"—he frowned, and with some passion emphasised none other—"you are not likely to mistake, you are not likely to give it to another."