'I like gumption,' said Captain Cuttwater. 'You've a great deal of gumption--that's why I like you.'
'Now I have been thinking of something;' and Uncle Bat looked strangely mysterious--'I wonder what you think of Gertrude?'
'I can see through a millstone as well as another,' said the captain; 'and I used to think that Norman and Gertrude meant to hit it off together.'
Alaric said nothing. He did not feel inclined to tell Norman's secret, and yet he could not belie Gertrude by contradicting the justice of Captain Cuttwater's opinion.
'I used to think so--but now I find there's nothing in it. I am sure Gertrude wouldn't have him, and I think she's right. He hasn't gumption enough.'
'I dare say not,' said the captain; 'but take my word, she'll never have him--Lord bless you, Norman knows that as well as I do.'
Alaric knew it very well himself also; but he did not say so.
'Now, the long and the short of it is this--why don't you make up to her? If you'll make up to her and carry the day, all I can say is, I will do all I can to keep the pot a-boiling; and if you think it will help you, you may tell Gertrude that I say so.'
This was certainly an important communication, and one to which Alaric found it very difficult to give any immediate answer. He said a great deal about his affection for Mrs. Woodward, of his admiration for Miss Woodward, of his strong sense of Captain Cuttwater's kindness, and of his own unworthiness; but he left the captain with an impression that he was not prepared at the present moment to put himself forward as a candidate for Gertrude's hand.
'I don't know what the deuce he would have,' said the captain to himself. 'She's as fine a girl as he's likely to find; and two or three thousand pounds isn't so easily got every day by a fellow that hasn't a shilling of his own.'
When Alaric took his departure the next morning, he thought he perceived, from Mrs. Woodward's manner, that there was less than her usual cordiality in the tone in which she said that of course he would return at the end of the week.
'I will if possible,' he said, 'and I need not say that I hope to do so; but I fear I may be kept in town--at any rate I'll write.' When the end of the week came he wrote to say that unfortunately he was kept in town. He thoroughly understood that people are most valued when they make themselves scarce. He got in reply a note from Gertrude, saying that her mother begged that on the following Saturday he would come and bring Charley with him.