akable bitterness of soul.

"Yes, I can," he replied very slowly, and turning away his face leant
a hand on the spade beside him. "Oh, Jemmy, Jemmy!" he muttered.

There was no entreaty in the words, but they pierced Captain Jemmy's
heart like two stabs of a knife. He took a step forward and
stretched out a hand as if to lay it on his old friend's shoulder.
The little man jumped aside, faced him again, hissing out one word--

"_You!_"

The arm dropped.

"Jack--I'm sorry; but you have drawn the wrong conclusion."

The pair looked each other in the face for a moment, and Captain
Runacles went on, but more coldly and as if repeating a task--

"Yes, the wrong conclusion. For my own part, as you once pointed
out, I have a girl. I may add that I propose to train up Sophia; and
I haven't the faintest doubt that, in spite of her sex, I can train
her to knock your Tristram into a cocked-hat in every department of
useful knowledge. At the same time it has occurred to me that, as
his guardian, I am at least bound to give the boy every chance.
You are teaching him gardening?"

Captain Barker nodded, with a face profoundly puzzled.

"You object to it?" he asked.

"Decidedly, under your present conditions. You are cramped for
space."

"We are using every inch between the road and the marsh."

"You forget my back-garden, which lies waste at present."

"My dear Jemmy!"

"By knocking a hole in the party hedge you gain two and a half acres
at least. Then, as to water--you depend on the rainfall."

"That's true."

"But there's an excellent spring between this and Dovercourt; and the
owner will sell."

"It's half a mile away."

"God bless my soul! I suppose I am not too old to design a conduit."

Captain Jack's arm stole into Captain Jemmy's.

"You'll be saying next," the latter went on, "that I'm too old to set
about draining the marsh. Then, as to sundials: you're amazingly
deficient in sundials. Now half a dozen here and there--and a
fish-pond or two--unless you'd like to have a moat. I could run you
a moat around the back, and keep it supplied with fresh water all the
year round. By the way, talking of moats and fresh water, did I tell
you that Roderick Salt was not drowned, after all?"

"Eh? How did he die, then?"

"He's not dead."

"Good God!"

"He has been seen at The Hague, and again at Cuxhaven, by men of this
very port. Beckerleg will give you their names."

"But you tell me--the wil