“Wish your honor Sir Hercules, and your honorable lady, and all the honorable company, a very good-morning,” continued my father, taking Virginia and me by the hand to lead us away.

Sir Hercules touched his hat in return, and walked away as stiff as usual.  The pensioners who had witnessed the interview between him and my father, concluding that Sir Hercules was a naval officer, now rose and touched their hats to him as he walked with her ladyship in advance of the party.  We joined Anderson, who was sitting down at the other end of the walk, when my father communicated to him what had passed.

As my father conducted Virginia home, she said to him, “Why do you call him sir and her lady?”

“Because they are quality people, child.  He is a barrownight, and she is Lady Hercules.”

“Are all barrownights and ladies so much bigger than other people are in general?”

“No, child, they don’t go by size.  I’ve seen many a lord who was a very little man.”

My mother was very much pleased when we narrated what had happened, as she considered that Lady Hercules might prove a valuable patron to Virginia, whom she did not fail to have ready at the time appointed; and, dressed in our very best, we all walked together to the Sun, at which Sir Hercules and his lady had taken up their quarters.  Let it not be supposed that my mother had forgotten the unceremonious manner in which she had been dismissed from the service of Lady Hercules—­it was still fresh in the memory of a person so revengeful in her disposition; but she considered that as Lady Hercules had forgotten it, it was her interest to do the same; so, when we were ushered into the room where sat Sir Hercules and her ladyship, my mother was all smiles and courtesies, and gratitude for past favors.

There was an old gentleman, with a bald powdered head, dressed in black, standing with his back to the fire when we entered.  He was the only other person in the room besides Sir Hercules and his lady.  Lady Hercules first obtained from my mother a short history of what had happened since they had parted; and really, to hear my mother’s explanation, it would have been supposed that she and my father had always been the most loving couple in the world.

“Well,” said Sir Hercules, “and what do you intend to do with your boy, Saunders?”

“May it please your honor, I’ve been thinking of bringing him up as a channel pilot,” replied my father.

“Very good,” replied Sir Hercules; “I can see to that; and with my interest at the Trinity Board, the thing is done, sir;” and Sir Hercules walked pompously about the room.  “Saunders,” said Sir Hercules, stopping, after he had taken three or four turns up and down, and joining his fingers behind his back, “I thought I perceived some difference in you when you first addressed me.  What has become of your tail, sir?”

“My tail, your honor?” replied my father, looking as much a delinquent as if he was still on board a man-of-war, and had been guilty of some misdemeanor, “why, please your honor Sir Hercules—­”