“At any rate, let him get a dose of common sense before committing himself. He is a capital fellow, sure to rise; has the soul and head and hands for it, but he ought not to weight himself with a drag.” “Do you think he is really in love with her?” Lord Rotherwood waved his hands. “He thinks so, but nobody knows with those boys! I had to tell him at last that I would not have any philandering on board _my_ ship; and whatever he might think it his duty to say, must be put off for aunt—sister—Gorgon—Medusa or what not. And I don’t think he’s very bad, Fly, for he modestly asked permission to sketch Francie’s head for St. Mildred, or Milburg, or somebody; and was ready to run crazy about the tints on that dogfish. The young fellow is in the queerest state between the artist and the lover! delight and shame! I should like to take him north with us; the colours of the cliffs in the Isles would soon drive out Miss Victoria—what’s her name?” “You don’t think him like Stephen in the _Mill on the Floss_, who ought to have married Maggie Tulliver.” “I believe that is his precedent—but it is sheer stuff—pure accident—as a respectable old householder like me is ready to testify to the Gorgons and Chimeras dire—Grundys and all. We must encounter Rock Quay, Fly, if it is only to rescue this unlucky youth.” “What is he doing now? Oh, I see; drawing Francie, who sits as stiff as a Saint of Burne-Jones! Well, I’ll have an eye to them! Vera! Have you finished _Rudder Grange_?” “Not quite. I can’t make out who Lord Edward was.” “Why, the big dog! Did you think he was Pomona’s hero?” “I don’t know. Wasn’t Pomona very silly?” “If life was to be taken from story-books,” said Phyllis, in a very didactic mood; “but you see she imbibed the best side, what they really taught her of good.” “I thought, when you gave me the book, it was to be an adventure like mine, not all standing still in an old river. What do you think Hubert Delrio ought to do after persuading me into such an awful predicament?” “Tell your sister he is very sorry that you two foolish children got into such a scrape, and very thankful that you were saved.” “We are very thankful to Lord Rotherwood.” “I didn’t mean to him. To some One else,” said Phyllis, reverently. “Oh, of course,” said Vera. “But what _do_ you think, Lady Phyllis?” (Since her discovery of the title she made a liberal use of it.) “What do you think people will say?” “That a little girl has had a dangerous adventure and a happy escape.” “I am seventeen, Lady Phyllis!” “One is nothing like grown up at seventeen! I declare there’s a big steamer coming into sight. I wonder if it belongs to the Channel Fleet!” Nothing more sentimental could be extracted for the rest of the voyage. CHAPTER XIV—PAIRING TIME ANTICIPATED “I marry without more ado, My dear Dick Red Cap, what say you?” COWPER.