preparations for Florence, who sorely tried to do some honour to them, but could touch nothing, and could only weep and weep again.
"Well, well!" said the compassionate Captain, "arter turning in, my Heart’s Delight, you ’ll get more way upon you. Now, I ’ll serve out your allowance, my lad." To Diogenes. "And you shall keep guard on your mistress aloft."
Diogenes, however, although he had been eyeing his intended breakfast with a watering mouth and glistening eyes, instead of falling to, ravenously, when it was put before him, pricked up his ears, darted to the shop-door, and barked there furiously: burrowing with his head at the bottom, as if he were bent on mining his way out.
"Can there be anybody there!" asked Florence, in alarm.
"No, my lady lass," returned the Captain. "Who’d stay there, without making any noise! Keep up a good heart, pretty. It’s only people going by."
But for all that, Diogenes barked and barked, and burrowed and burrowed, with pertinacious fury; and whenever he stopped to listen, appeared to receive some new conviction into his mind, for he set to, barking and burrowing again, a dozen times. Even when he was persuaded to return to his breakfast, he came jogging back to it, with a very doubtful air; and was off again, in another paroxysm, before touching a morsel.
"If there should be someone listening and watching," whispered Florence. "Some one who saw me come—who followed me, perhaps."
"It an’t the young woman, lady lass, is it?" said the Captain, taken with a bright idea.
"Susan?" said Florence, shaking her head. "Ah no! Susan has been gone from me a long time."
"Not deserted, I hope?" said the Captain. "Don’t say that that there young woman’s run, my pretty!"
"Oh, no, no!" cried Florence. "She is one of the truest hearts in the world!"
The Captain was greatly relieved by this reply, and expressed his satisfaction by taking off his hard glazed hat, and dabbing his head all over with his handkerchief, rolled up like a ball, observing several times, with infinite complacency, and with a beaming countenance, that he know’d it.
"So you ’re quiet now, are you, brother?" said the Captain to Diogenes. "There warn’t nobody there, my lady lass, bless you!"
Diogenes was not so sure of that. The door still had an attraction for him at intervals; and he went snuffing about it, and growling to himself, unable to forget the subject. This incident, coupled with the Captain’s observation of Florence’s fatigue and faintness, decided him to prepare Sol Gills’s chamber as a place of retirement for her immediately. He therefore hastily betook himself to the top of the house, and made the best arrangement of it that his imagination and his means suggested.
It was very clean already; and the Captain being an orderly man, and accustomed to make things ship-shape, converted the bed into a couch, by covering it all over with a clean white drapery. By a similar contrivance, the Captain converted the little dressing-table into a species of altar, on which he set forth two silver teaspoons, a flower-pot, a telescope, his celebrated watch, a pocket-comb, and a song-book, as a small collection
