Go on as you have begun, my dear lad, and I promise you, when you
come home, that if Phyllis hasn't found someone already to her liking,
you shall have all the influence I can exert with the minx."
"Thank you, sir: I couldn't ask for more. There's another thing: do you
think you could do anything for Mr. Toley? He's a capital fellow."
"I know it. I have anticipated you. Toley is appointed captain of the
Jane, an Indiaman that arrived the other day; her captain died of scurvy
on the way out. She'll sail for England next week; we go with her; and so
does that villain Barker, who'll get his deserts when he reaches London.
The Good Intent is broken up; her interloping is over for good and all.
"But come, my boy, sure 'tis time we dressed: Admiral Watson likes
punctuality, and I promise you he'll give us a capital dinner. A word in
your ear: Phyllis is to sit between you and Hastings. You can't eat him,
at any rate."
A week later Desmond went down to the Company's ghat to see the Jane
sail. Mr. Toley in his brand new uniform looked more melancholy than
ever, and Phyllis Merriman made a little grimace when she saw for the
first time the captain under whose charge she was to sail for home.
"Don't be alarmed," said Desmond, laughing. "The sadder he looks, I
believe the happier he is. Silas Toley is a fine seaman and a true
gentleman.--
"I wonder if we shall ever meet again, Miss Merriman?"
"I wonder, Mr. Burke."
"I shall hear about you, I hope.
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