"No, sir, possibly not, though I'm told he isn't such a bad-looking fellow," answered Dad, laughing again at the Admiral's determination to get to the bottom of the matter. "The truth, sir, is I want to get this youngster nominated for a naval cadetship before he oversteps the age limit. The boy is dying to follow in my footsteps; but, though I have tried to dissuade him from it as much as I can, and the idea of his going to sea makes his poor mother shudder, still, seeing that he seems bent upon it, neither she nor I wish to thwart his inclination." "Whee-ugh!" whistled the other through his teeth as he proceeded to take three or four enormous pinches of snuff in rapid succession from his waistcoat pocket and losing half of each pinch ere it reached his nose, the Admiral generously scattering it over the lapels of his coat and shirt front on the way. "Why the deuce didn't you tell me all that before, my dear Vernon, instead of backing and filling like a Dutch galliot beating to win'ard?" "I--I--" hesitated my father, who had refrained from telling him before because he hated asking a favour of anyone whom he regarded in the light of a friend. "I--I--didn't like to trouble you, sir." "Bosh, Vernon! You know well enough it's never a trouble to me to do anything for an old shipmate," said the old fellow, heartily, and, putting his hand on my shoulder, he wheeled me round so as to look me in the face as I lifted up my head and gazed at him admiringly on his addressing me directly, "so, my young shaver, you want to be a sailor, eh?" "Yes, sir," I replied, "I love the sea, and I wouldn't be anything else for the world!" "Ha, humph!" growled the veteran, who, I believe, was as fond of his profession at heart, in spite of his grumbles, as anyone who ever went afloat. "You'd better be a tinker or a tailor, my boy, than go to sea! It's a bad trade nowadays! What put it into your head, eh?" "It comes naturally to him," said Dad, seeing me puzzled how to answer the question. "I suppose it must run in the blood, sir." "Humph, like my gout!" jerked out Sir Charles, sharply, as if he just then felt a twinge of his old complaint, and, turning to me again, he asked as abruptly, "D'ye think you can pass for cadet, youngster--know your three R's--readin', 'ritin' and 'rithmetic, eh?" "Yes, sir, I think so," said I grinning, having heard this old joke before from Dad many a time, "I shall try my best, sir. I can't say more than that, sir, can I?"