But if Miss Gertrude was a royal princess, she
couldn't be more watched over, or taken more care of, than she is. To
see Mrs. Morden, the governess, with her, you'd think as the little
girl was made of barley-sugar, and would melt away with a drop of rain;
and to see Captain Copplestone with her, you'd think as she was the
crown-jewels of England, and that everybody was on the watch to get the
chance of stealing her."
Black Milsom smiled as the groom said this. It was a grim smile, not by
any means pleasant to see; but James Harwood was not an observer, and
he was looking tenderly at his last spoonful of rum-punch, and
wondering within himself whether Mr. Milsom was likely to offer him
another glass of that delicious beverage.
"And pray what sort of a customer is Captain Copplestone?" asked
Milsom, thoughtfully.
"An uncommonly tough customer," replied James Harwood; "that's what he
is. If it wasn't for his rheumatic gout, he's a man that would be ready
to fight the champion of England any day in the week. There's very few
things the captain wouldn't do in the way of downright pluck; but, you
see, whatever pluck a man may have, it can't help him much when he's
laid by the heels with the rheumatic gout, as the captain is very
often."
"Ha! and who takes care of little missy then?"
"Why, the captain. He's like a watch-dog, and his kennel is at little
missy's door.
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