But you only lay your head well to the wind,' said the Captain, again administering that unanswerable piece of consolation, 'and you're all right!' Old Sol thanked him from his heart, and went and laid it against the back parlour fire-place instead.
Captain Cuttle walked up and down the shop for some time, cogitating profoundly, and bringing his bushy black eyebrows to bear so heavily on his nose, like clouds setting on a mountain, that Walter was afraid to offer any interruption to the current of his reflections.

Mr Brogley, who was averse to being any constraint upon the party, and who had an ingenious cast of mind, went, softly whistling, among the stock; rattling weather-glasses, shaking compasses as if they were physic, catching up keys with loadstones, looking through telescopes, endeavouring to make himself acquainted with the use of the globes, setting parallel rulers astride on to his nose, and amusing himself with other philosophical transactions.
'Wal'r!' said the Captain at last.

'I've got it.' 'Have you, Captain Cuttle ?' cried Walter, with great animation.
'Come this way, my lad,' said the Captain.

'The stock's the security.
I'm another.

Your governor's the man to advance money.' 'Mr Dombey!' faltered Walter.
The Captain nodded gravely.