“At all events, my dear Mr Cheveley, we shall have the satisfaction of knowing that we have done our duty in removing what I consider a disgrace to our community,” observed Sir Reginald. “As to lowering the duties, that is what I will never consent to. I shall always oppose any scheme of the sort while I hold my place in Parliament. I feel that I am bound to preserve things as they are, and am not to be moved by the brawling cries of demagogues.”
“Of course, Sir Reginald, you understand these things better than I do. I have never given my mind to politics, and have always been ready to record my vote in your favour, and to induce as many as possible of my parishioners to follow my example.”
All this time I had been sitting on the tenter-hooks of expectation, wondering if my father would again refer to the subject which had induced him to pay a visit to the baronet.
“I must wish you good morning, Sir Reginald,” he said, rising. “You will, I feel sure, not forget your promise regarding my son Dick, and if Captain Grummit cannot take him, I trust that you will find some other captain who does not insist on his midshipmen having so large an allowance.”
“Of course, my dear Mr Cheveley, of course,” said the baronet, rising; “although it did not strike me as anything unreasonable. Yet I am aware how you are situated with a numerous family and a comparatively small income; and, believe me, I will not lose an opportunity of forwarding the views of the young gentleman. Good morning, my dear Mr Cheveley, good morning,” and nodding to me, he bowed us out of the hall.
“I hope Sir Reginald will get me a berth on board some other ship,” I said to my father, as we walked homeward. “He seems wonderfully good-natured and condescending.”
“I don’t feel altogether satisfied as to that point,” answered my father, who knew the baronet better than I did.