“Dem your impudence! I'll cross-buttock yah!” “Hold your tongue, Bill--queering a gent. Draw it mild, captain. Debtancosts ain't paid yet. Here they come, though.” Lucy returned swiftly, holding aloft a slip of paper. “There, sir, that is a check for 90 pounds; it is the same thing as money, you are doubtless aware.” The man took it and inspected it keenly. “Very sorry, marm, but can't take it. It's a lady's check.” “What! is it not written properly?” “Beautiful, marm. But when we takes these beautiful-wrote checks to the bank, the cry is always, 'No assets.'” “But Uncle Bazalgette said everybody would give me money for it.” “What! is Mr. Bazalgette your uncle, marm? then you go to him, and get his check in place of yours, and the captain will be free as the birds in the hair.” “Oh, thank you, sir,” cried Lucy, and the next minute she was in Mr. Bazalgette's study. “Uncle, don't be angry with me: it is for no unworthy purpose; only don't ask me; it might mortify another; but _would_ you give me a check of your own for mine? They will not receive mine.” Mr. Bazalgette looked grave, and even sad; but he sat quietly down without a word, and drew her a check, taking hers, which he locked in his desk. The tears were in Lucy's eyes at his gravity and his delicacy. “Some day I will tell you,” said she. “I have nothing to reproach myself, indeed--indeed.” “Make the rogue--or jade--give you a receipt,” groaned Bazalgette. “All right, marm, this time. Captain, the world is hall before you where to chewse. But this is for ninety, marm;” and he put his hand very slowly into his pocket. “Do me the favor to keep the rest for your trouble, sir.” “Trouble's a pleasure, marm. It is not often we gets a tip for taking a gent. Ve are funk shin hairies as is not depreciated, mam, and the more genteel we takes 'em the rougher they cuts; and the very women no more like you nor dark to light; but flies at us like ryal Bengal tigers, through taking of us for the creditors.” “Verehas we hare honly servants of the ke veen;” suggested No. 2, hashing his mistress's English. “Stow your gab, Bill, and mizzle. Let the captain thank the lady. Good-day, marm.” “Oh, my poor friend, what language! and my ill advice threw you into their company!” Captain Kenealy told her, in his brief way, that the circumstance was one of no import, except in so far as it had impeded his discharge of his duty to her. He then mounted the pony, which had been waiting for him more than half an hour. “But it is five o'clock,” said Lucy; “you will be too late for dinner.” “Dinner be dem--d,” drawled the man of action, and rode off like a flash. “It is to be, then,” said Lucy, and her heart ebbed. It had ebbed and flowed a good many times in the last hour or two.