I communicated to my mother that my father was in future her landlord, at which she expressed much surprise, until I told her how I became possessed of the money.  When my father came in, which he did shortly after, she said rather sharply: 

“Well, Mr. Saunders, I suppose I must pay you my rent now, every quarter?”

“Pay me!” exclaimed my father; “come, not so bad as that, neither.  Haven’t you found me in beer, without a grumble, for these many years, and do you think I’ve forgotten it?  No, no!  You’ve been a kind woman to me, after all, although things did go a little cross at first, and so here’s the paper for you to keep for me; and there’s an end of the matter, only—­”

“Only what?” inquired my mother, looking very kindly at my father.

“Only let’s have a pot of beer now, to drink Tom’s health, that’s all.”

Having thus satisfactorily settled this point, I returned to Chatham.  I had promised to take a farewell of my sister and the O’Connors, as I expected they would leave previous to my again coming up the river.

CHAPTER FIFTY

     An Adventure which at first promised to be the most Unfortunate,
     and eventually proved the most Fortunate in my Life.

As Sir James O’Connor would have to remain at least a fortnight longer at Chatham, until his ship was paid off, I made Lady O’Connor promise to write to me, and then started for Deal.  I found Bramble and Bessy as usual delighted to see me, and Mrs. Maddox was as talkative as ever.  I received a letter from Lady O’Connor, and also one from Dr. Tadpole, written at the request of my father, informing me that by a letter from Mrs. St. Felix there was little prospect of her return to Greenwich.  I had not been a week at Deal when a large ship dropped her anchor in the Downs, and made the signal for a pilot.

“Well, Tom,” said Bramble, “I think I shall take a turn now, for I want to go up and see old Anderson.”

“I will take her through, if you please, father; and you may go as a passenger.  You don’t want money, and I do.”

“All’s right, Tom—­well, then, I’ll go as a passenger, and you shall be pilot.”

“Why must you go at all, father?  Why not go to Greenwich by the stage?” exclaimed Bessy.  “When will you leave off, my dear father?  Surely you’ve enough now, and might let Tom go without you.”

“Quite enough money, but not quite enough of the salt water yet, Bessy,” replied Bramble; “and when I do travel, I won’t go by land, when I can sail under canvas.”

“Well, you may go this time, father, but this is the last.  If you won’t leave off, I will not stay here, that’s positive; so when you come on shore some fine day you may expect to find me absent without leave.”

“Very well; then I’ll send Tom to look after you:  he’ll soon bring you back again.”

“Tom! he wouldn’t take the trouble to look after me.”