shout from the quay. Seeing Mr. Elgood, the captain of the Nymph waved a pleased and surprised greeting, and, after giving a few instructions, worked his way ashore and reached his friend.
"This is luck, seemingly," said Elgood, after they had shaken hands; "I was afraid that the Nymph would be out. How's Mrs. Timms and the family?"
"Very fit," replied Mr. Timms; "I was just thinking of going up to the house when you came. We got in on Tuesday night, and have scarcely finished unloading. You'd better come up with me; the missis was saying only yesterday that we didn’t see anything of you now that you'd dropped anchor and become a gentleman."
"Don't think it, Ned," said the retired captain, hastily. "There's never any feeling of difference between us, I hope. Pals we've been, and will be to the end, if it rests with me."
The earnestness of Mr. Elgood's feeling appeared to surprise his companion a little. He was thinking perhaps, that since a recent and unexpected legacy, his old companion had not manifested any overwhelming desire for the company of his humbler friends.
"There's something I want to talk over with you, Ned," continued Elgood, after a pause. "It's better where we can be alone; come in here."
They turned into a small inn, which at that time of day was quite deserted. Elgood led the way into the remotest corner, and after calling for a glass of beer for his companion and a pipe for himself, began cautiously:
"This is a matter between ourselves, Ned," he said. "Take it or leave it, it goes no further. I must have your word for that."
Mr. Timms gave the required promise, and awaited Elgood's proposal with some curiosity.
