“Where is this cripple, then?” “Tim is stuffing him in the kitchen, sir.” “Well, when he has done eating, show him up here. Stir up the fire; put more logs on; that will do. And now, Edward, since you are so fond of reading trash about the sea, we will hear what this poor cripple has got to say. I have no doubt when you hear _his_ story of real life, it will help to cure you of your wild and foolish notions about the navy. If you want to go to sea for a time, take a trip in a merchant ship.” “That is not like the king’s navy, no more than a militia-man at home is like one of the royal guard who has fought against the French, uncle.” “If you wished to take a trip, my old friend Redgill has half a dozen ships, and will be glad to oblige me.” “I don’t like the name of Redgill, or his ships either,” said Ned, with a scornful curl of his lip. “What is that you say, sir?” “I can’t help it, uncle; I don’t like any of the Redgills; as to Phillip, I hate him.” “Remember, Edward, they are relations of mine, which you are not.” “I know it, uncle,” said Ned, with a sigh. “Charley and I depend upon you for everything. We are poor, friendless orphans.” “And perhaps may remain friendless and moneyless, too, if you do not do my bidding, young sir; remember that.” “I know it, uncle; but I hope to gain my own living ere many months have passed over my head. But whether I am rich or poor, I shall hate Phil Redgill all the same.” “Why, sir?” “He is a rank coward. I despise him.” “Coward!—despise him! What mean you? Do you know he may one day inherit my fortune?” “I do. I don’t hate him for that; but he is a coward and a cunning knave into the bargain. He is much older than I am; but I could thrash the very life out of him in ten minutes, if he’d only stand up like a man. I have told him that more than once, uncle, and have shoved my fist in his face often and often; he is a sly thief and a liar, uncle,” said Wildfire Ned, getting red and very passionate. “Tim and I know what he has done before now. Charley and he are very thick, I hear, in London; but, if brother took _my_ advice, he would shun Phil Redgill like a snake in the grass. If he don’t come to the gallows in time, why, then, he must have more lives than a cat, that’s all.” The knight was astounded at this; but while he stood staring at Ned, the door opened, and in walked the footman and Tim the boy groom, leading in the one-legged sailor. Timothy, the groom, or Tiny Tim, as he was called, on account of his small stature, looked pale and frightened. His staring eyes, and hair standing on end, told plainly that he had been frightened by something or somebody on the road from Portsmouth. “What’s the matter, Tim?” Ned asked, laughing. “Why, you look as if you had seen a dozen ghosts on the road.” “So I have, Master Edward, more than a dozen.” “More than a dozen ghosts, lad?” asked the knight, laughing. “Did you bring the letters safe?”