“Mr. David Dodd might be persuaded to give us the pleasure of his company too.” “Oh yes, if I may bring dear David with me,” burst out the child of nature, coloring again with pleasure. “It will add to the obligation,” said Lucy, finishing the sentence in character. “So that is settled,” said Mr. Fountain, somewhat dryly. As they were walking home together, the courtier asked her uncle rather coldly, “Who are these we have invited, dear?” “Who are they? A pretty girl and a man she wouldn't come without.” “And who is the gentleman? What is he?” “A marine animal--first mate of a ship.” “First mate? mate? Is that what in the novels is called boatswain's mate?” “Haw! haw! haw! I say, Lucy, ask him when he comes if he is the bosen's mate. How little Eve will blaze!” “Then I shall ask him nothing of the kind. Do tell me! I know admirals--they swear--and captains, and, I think, lieutenants, and, _above all,_ those little loves of midshipmen, strutting with their dirks and cocked hats, like warlike bantams, but I never met 'mates.' Mates?” “That is because you have only been introduced to the Royal Navy; but there is another navy not so ornamental, but quite as useful, called the East India Company's.” “I am ashamed to say I never heard of it.” “I dare say not. Well, in this navy there are only two kinds of superior officers--the mates and the captain. There are five or six mates. Young Dodd has been first mate some time, so I suppose he will soon be a captain.” “Uncle!” “Well.” “Will this--mate--swear?” “Clearly.” “There, now. I do not like swearing on a Sunday. That wicked old admiral used to make me shudder.” “Oh,” said Mr. Fountain, playing upon innocence, “he swore by the Supreme Being, 'I bet sixpence.'” “Yes,” said Lucy, in a low, soft voice of angelic regret. “Ah! he was in the Royal Navy. But this is a merchantman; you don't think he will presume to break into the monopoly of the superior branch. He will only swear by the wind and weather. Thunder and squalls! Donner and blitzen! Handspikes and halyards! these are the innocent execrations of the merchant service--he! he! ho!” “Uncle, can you be serious?” asked Lucy, somewhat coldly; “if so, be so good as to tell me, is this gentleman--a--gentleman?” “Well,” replied the other, coolly, “he is what I call a nondescript; like an attorney, or a surgeon, or a civil engineer, or a banker, or a stock-broker, and all that sort of people. He can be a gentleman if he is thoroughly bent on it; you would in his place, and so should I; but these skippers don't turn their mind that way. Old families don't go into the merchant service. Indeed, it would not answer. There they rise by--by--mere maritime considerations.” “Then, uncle,” began Lucy, with dignified severity, “permit me to say that, in inviting a nondescript, you showed--less consideration for me than--you--are in the habit--of doing, dearest.” “Well, have a headache, and can't come down.”