CHAPTER XXV Spurlock pushed back his helmet and sat down in the white sand, buckling his knees and folding his arms around them—pondering. “A girl needs her mother most exactly when she thinks she doesn’t. Here he halted; and, looking upwards, read, at the foot of an immense sign-board, displaying a gaudily-painted angel with expanded pinions and an olive-branch, not the name he expected to find, but that of WILLIAM KNEEBONE, WOOLLENDRAPER. “I had lunch very late to-day, and I did not get home in time for dinner. About this time,—namely, in November, 1703— while young Trenchard was in Lancashire, and his sister in London, on a visit, he received a certain communication from his confidential servant, Davies, which, at once, destroyed his hopes. ‘Dreadfully untidy, is it not? Can’t abide bare rooms. Maggot. ‘Why not a French flag?’ ‘Because I don’t believe that fool Pottiswick could tell French from Arabic, even if he heard it as he says he did—which I take leave to doubt. ***** At sundown Spurlock was brought aboard and put into cabin 2, while Ruth was assigned to cabin 4, adjoining.
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