The old dad
is as rich as a Jew--got the gout in both legs--can't hold out much
longer--nice pickings at his money bags, while the devil is picking
his bones."
There was no withstanding such inducements, and I agreed that he
should present me the next day.
Our dialogue was interrupted by the master of the house and his son,
who gave me a hearty welcome; the father had been a widower for some
years, and his only son Ned resided with him, and was intended to
succeed to his business as a merchant. We adjourned to dress for
dinner; our bed-rooms were contiguous, and we began to talk of Sir
Hurricane.
"He is a strange mixture," said Ned. "I love him for his good temper;
but I owe him a grudge for making mischief between me and Maria;
besides, he talks balderdash before the ladies, and annoys them very
much."
"I owe him a grudge too," said I, "for sending me to sea in a gale of
wind."
"We shall both be quits with him before long," said Ned; "but let us
now go and meet him at dinner. To-morrow I will set the housekeeper
at him for his cruelty to her cat; and if I am not much mistaken, she
will pay him off for it."
Dinner passed off extremely well. The admiral was in high spirits; and
as it was a bachelor's party, he earned his wine. The next morning we
met at breakfast. When that was over, the master of the house retired
to his office, or pretended to do so. I was going out to walk, but Ned
said I had better stay a few minutes; he had something to say to me;
in fact, he had prepared a treat without my knowing it.
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