My boat is now waiting at the end of the wharf to take his traps." "Thanks, Miles," replied my father; "but, won't you come round with us to Jenny Gussett's Hotel and have some lunch?
My wife will be glad to see you." "Oh, has she come in to town to see the youngster off ?" asked the captain.
"Yes, we all rode in," answered dad.

"The whole kit of us are here." "All right; I'll come then, as soon as I've finished arranging matters and signing bills of lading with my agent here," said Captain Miles cordially, adding, with one of his knowing winks to dad, "I've no doubt your missis wants to give me all sorts of directions about young Master Hopeful, eh ?" "You might be further out in your guess," rejoined dad with a laugh; and presently the three of us went back to the hotel together, it being near the hour at which dad had ordered our early dinner, or luncheon, to be got ready.
The time soon slipped by at our meal, which none of us seemed to enjoy very much save the captain, who, of course, was not affected by any sad thoughts of parting, the same as dad and mother and I and my sisters were--that is excepting Baby Tot, for she looked still upon the whole thing as a joke and continued in the best of spirits.
When we rose from table, mother got hold of Captain Miles and began whispering earnestly to him, something about me, I was certain; so, in order not to overhear their conversation, I went towards the open door leading into a wide passage-way that terminated in the usual verandah common to all West Indian houses.

The hotel, however, did not command such a pretty prospect as ours at Mount Pleasant, for it looked on to the street, which could be gained by descending a short flight of steps at the end of the alcove.
But, would you believe it, hardly had I reached the verandah, when, there on the top step I saw old Pompey standing in an attitude of great expectancy, with his footless wine-glass in hand, the same as was his habit at home on the plantation, although it was more than two hours past his usual grog-time! No sooner had I appeared than out came his stereotyped formula: "Hi, Mass' Tom! um come rum." I felt sad enough at the moment, but the sight of Pompey with his wine- glass, and his quaint well-known way of expressing himself, made me burst into a fit of laughter which brought out dad from the dining-room.
"Hullo, Tom, what's the matter ?" he cried.

"Ah, I see! Why, Pompey, you old rascal, you're past your time," he added, catching sight of the old negro at the end of the verandah.

"What do you mean by coming for your grog at four bells, eh?
I suppose, though, as Master Tom's going away we must let you have it." So saying, dad went back into the dining-room, bringing out presently a tumbler filled with something which he handed to Pompey, the old darkey swallowing the contents with his usual gusto, and, needless to say, without any very great amount of exertion.
"There," said dad when Pompey returned the empty glass with a bow and scrape, "go and tell the others that Master Tom wants to say good-bye, as he will start in a minute or two, and that he wishes them to come round and drink his health too." Pompey thereupon shuffled off awkwardly in his boots, returning soon with two of the other negroes who had come down with us from the plantation.