Page:Dombey and Son.djvu/583

486 bestowed a most significant look on Florence, accompanied with pantomime, expressive of sagacity and mystery—to have the goodness to "sing out," and he would make up the difference from his pocket. Casually consulting his big watch, as a deep means of dazzling the establishment, and impressing it with a sense of property, the Captain then kissed his hook to his niece, and retired outside the window, where it was a choice sight to see his great face looking in from time to time, among the silks and ribbons, with an obvious misgiving that Florence had been spirited away by a back door.

"Dear Captain Cuttle," said Florence, when she came out with a parcel, the size of which greatly disappointed the Captain, who had expected to see a porter following with a bale of goods, "I don’t want this money, indeed. I have not spent any of it. I have money of my own."

"My lady lass," returned the baffled Captain, looking straight down the street before them, "take care on it for me, will you be so good, till such time as I ask ye for it?"

"May I put it back in its usual place," said Florence, "and keep it there?"

The Captain was not at all gratified by this proposal, but he answered, "Aye, aye, put it anywheres, my lady lass, so long as you know where to find it again. It an’t o’ no use to me," said the Captain. "I wonder I haven’t chucked it away afore now."

The Captain was quite disheartened for the moment, but he revived at the first touch of Florence’s arm, and they returned with the same precautions as they had come; the Captain opening the door of the little Midshipman’s berth, and diving in, with a suddenness which his great practice only could have taught him. During Florence’s slumber in the morning, he had engaged the daughter of an elderly lady who usually sat under a blue umbrella in Leadenhall Market, selling poultry, to come and put her room in order, and render her any little services she required; and this damsel now appearing, Florence found everything about her as convenient and orderly, if not as handsome, as in the terrible dream she had once called Home.

When they were alone again, the Captain insisted on her eating a slice of dry toast, and drinking a glass of spiced negus (which he made to perfection); and, encouraging her with every kind word and inconsequential quotation he could possibly think of, led her upstairs to her bedroom. But he too had something on his mind, and was not easy in his manner.

"Good night, dear heart," said Captain Cuttle to her at her chamber-door.

Florence raised her lips to his face, and kissed him.

At any other time the Captain would have been overbalanced by such a token of her affection and gratitude; but now, although he was very sensible of it, he looked in her face with even more uneasiness than he had testified before, and seemed unwilling to leave her.

"Poor Wal’r!" said the Captain.

"Poor, poor Walter!" sighed Florence.

"Drownded, an’t he?" said the Captain.

Florence shook her head, and sighed.

"Good night, my lady lass!" said Captain Cuttle, putting out his hand.