Having darkened the window, the captain walked on tiptoe out of the
room, and from sheer exhaustion Florence soon fell asleep.
When she awoke the sun was getting low in the West, and after cooling
her aching head and burning face in fresh water, she made ready to go
downstairs again. What to do or where to live, she--poor, inexperienced
girl!--could not yet consider. All was dim and clouded to her mind. She
only knew that she had no father upon earth, and she said so many times,
with her suppliant head hidden from all but her Father who was in
Heaven. Then she tried to calm her thoughts and stay her tears, and went
down to her kind protector.
The captain had cooked the evening meal and spread the cloth with great
care, and when Florence appeared he dressed for dinner, by taking off
his glazed hat and putting on his coat. That done, he wheeled the table
against her on the sofa, said Grace, and did the honors of the table.
"My Lady Lass," said he, "Cheer up, and try to eat a bit. Stand by,
dearie! Liver wing it is. Sarse it is. Sassage it is. And potato!"
All of these delicacies the captain ranged symetrically on the plate,
pouring hot gravy on the whole and adding: "Try and pick a bit, my
Pretty. If Wal'r was here--"
"Ah! If I had him for my brother now!" cried Florence.
"Don't take on, my Pretty," said the captain: "awast, to obleege me. He
was your nat'r'l born friend like, wa'n't he, Pet? Well, well! If our
poor Wal'r was here, my Lady Lass--or if he could be--for he's drowned,
a'n't he?--As I was saying, if he could be here, he'd beg and pray of
you, my precious, to pick a leetle bit, with a look-out for your own
sweet health.
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