Neville replied that he was greatly obliged, and that he thankfully accepted the kind proposal.
“I am very glad to take your windows in tow,” said the Lieutenant. “From what I have seen of you when I have been gardening at mine, and you have been looking on, I have thought you (excuse me) rather too studious and delicate. May I ask, is your health at all affected?”
“I have undergone some mental distress,” said Neville, confused, “which has stood me in the stead of illness.”
“Pardon me,” said Mr. Tartar.
With the greatest delicacy he shifted his ground to the windows again, and asked if he could look at one of them. On Neville’s opening it, he immediately sprang out, as if he were going aloft with a whole watch in an emergency, and were setting a bright example.
“For Heaven’s sake,” cried Neville, “don’t do that! Where are you going Mr. Tartar? You’ll be dashed to pieces!”
“All well!” said the Lieutenant, coolly looking about him on the housetop. “All taut and trim here. Those lines and stays shall be rigged before you turn out in the morning. May I take this shortcut home, and say good night?”
“ Mr. Tartar!” urged Neville. “Pray! It makes me giddy to see you!”
But Mr. Tartar, with a wave of his hand and the deftness of a cat, had already dipped through his scuttle of scarlet runners without breaking a leaf, and “gone below.”