gathered the flunkies and chairmen awaiting their masters at the clubs and coffee-houses near by.  What was my astonishment, therefore, to see a change in the captain’s demeanour.  Truly for quick learning and the application of it I have never known his equal.  His air became the one of careless ease habitual to the little gentleman we had met at Windsor, and he drew from his pocket one of his guineas, which he tossed in the man’s palm.

“Here, my man,” said he, snapping his fingers; “an apartment at once, or you shall pay for this nonsense, I promise you.”  And walked in with his chin in the air, so grandly as to dissolve ridicule into speculation.

For an instant the chamberlain wavered, and I trembled, for I dreaded a disgrace in Pall Mall, where the Manners might hear of it.  Then fear, or hope of gain, or something else got the better of him, for he led us to a snug, well-furnished suite of a parlour and bedroom on the first floor, and stood bowing in the doorway for his honour’s further commands.  They were of a sort to bring the sweat to my forehead.

“Have a fellow run to bid Davenport, the tailor, come hither as fast as his legs will carry him.  And you may make it known that this young gentleman desires a servant, a good man, mind you, with references, who knows a gentleman’s wants.  He will be well paid.”

That name of Davenport was a charm,—­the mention of a servant was its finishing touch.  The chamberlain bent almost double, and retired, closing the door softly behind him.  And so great had been my surprise over these last acquirements of the captain that until now I had had no breath to expostulate.

“I must have my fling, Richard,” he answered, laughing; “I shall not be a gentleman long.  I must know how it feels to take your ease, and stroke your velvet, and order lackeys about.  And when my money is gone I shall be content to go to sea again, and think about it o’ stormy nights.”

This feeling was so far beyond my intelligence that I made no comment.  And I could not for the life of me chide him, but prayed that all would come right in the end.

In less than an hour Davenport himself arrived, bristling with importance, followed by his man carrying such a variety of silks and satins, flowered and plain, and broadcloths and velvets, to fill the furniture.  And close behind the tailor came a tall haberdasher from Bond Street, who had got wind of a customer, with a bewildering lot of ruffles and handkerchiefs and neckerchiefs, and bows of lawn and lace which (so he informed us) gentlemen now wore in the place of solitaires.  Then came a hosier and a bootmaker and a hatter; nay, I was forgetting a jeweller from Temple Bar.  And so imposing a front did the captain wear as he picked this and recommended the other that he got credit for me for all he chose, and might have had more besides.  For himself he ordered merely a modest street suit of purple, the sword to be thrust through the pocket, Davenport promising it with mine for the next afternoon.  For so much discredit had been cast upon his taste on the road to London that he was resolved to remain indoors until he could appear with decency.  He learned quickly, as I have said.