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to the bed and sat at one end, wary that the cat had not remembered their brief, grudging, alliance, and would rip into him as was the animal's wont when he first reported aboard, a barely "wetted down" commission officer.
    He wiggled his fingers and Pitt flicked the good ear, shook his head, then ambled over to sling his considerable bulk against Alan's hip and begin to purr loud as a bilge-pump chain. In stupefied amazement, Alan discovered that William Pitt would allow him to scrub under his chin, on the top of his head, and on his chest!
    "By God, but you've mellowed," Alan whispered in awe. "Like as not, you'd of had my fingers in shreds by now. Killed any live-stock this week, have you? The odd pig?"
    There was a rap on the door and Cony entered with a small tray which bore a china cup, a lidded silver pot, and a sugar and creamer.
    "Mornin', Mister Lewrie, sir." Cony bubbled over with bonhomie. "Well, if 'tisn't yer ole cat, William Pitt. Got ya up afore I did. 'Tis a fine, fine mornin', perfect for a canter on the downs. Hot chocolate t'perk ya up, sir. 'Ere ya go. Push ya into clothes, an' there's a country breakfast a'waitin' below-stairs, sir. Now, a maid I made h'acquaintance of, she told me that this cat 'ere, 'e's yews'lly a'cryin' at Mistress Caroline's door o' th' mornin's, but I s'pose 'e got yer scent an' come t'see iffen ya'd remember 'im, sir. 'Nother sugar in that, sir?"
    "Thankee kindly, Cony. Have you eat yet?"
    "Oh, aye, sir!" Cony beamed as he fetched duds from traveling bags. "Why, this house is a grand feeder, an' the scullery'n all bung t'th' deckheads with fine folk. Some of 'em right pretty,they is, so I'm set from now 'til th' 'Piphany. You'll be needin' me on yer ride this morning, sir?" Cony asked with an askance glance.
    "Ah, no, I don't believe so, Cony," Alan replied after one sip of the perfectly wonderful chocolate, recognizing when his man was so cheerful that he was practicing his own form of coyness. "We're both here to enjoy ourselves. Ow!"
    He had ignored William Pitt, who had rolled over on his right side and was pushing hard against Alan's nightshirt with all four of his paws, claws out and huffing for more attention!
    "Now there's a bloody wonder," Alan sighed, mystified once more and turning one hand back to ruffling the cat's throat and jaws. "Why don't you just fart about today, have a yam or two with your new, ah ... compatriots. Even go down to the village for a pint or two. I'll not need anything more 'til, oh ... supper, say?"
    * * * *
    "Er, thankee, sir!" Cony showed quick gratitude, then feigned contriteness at abandoning his master, and his responsibilities. "Iffen ya think there's no service I could be a'doin' for ya, that is..."
    "There's two shillings on the dresser there," Alan said as he finished the cocoa and set the cup down for Pitt to peer and sniff at. "I trust the girl is pretty? Aha, so that's it, you rogue! Maybe you could practice some of your Hindi on her. Hamare ghali ana, achcha din?"
    "Hello, won't you come into our street?" A whore's greeting.
    "Larlcee bahut sundar hai, jeehan, El-looee Sahib." Cony blushed a bit, though still more fluent than Lewrie would ever be. "Bazaari-rahndi naheen hai. Makaan naukari-larkee. "*
    *"The girl is very pretty, yes, Lewrie master. Not a bazaar-whore ... a house serving-girl."
    "Namaste, Cony-ji," Lewrie snickered, putting his palms together and bowing his head, "May God protect you, Cony."
    "Got me a cundum, sir," Cony whispered, darting out the door as Lewrie shucked his nightshirt and reached for his stockings.
    "God damme, I've corrupted him, swear if I haven't, hey, Pitt? Do they let you take breakfast? Hungry?"
    Alan finished dressing and headed for the stairs, and William Pitt leapt off the bed and made a tawny streak ahead of him.
    God, there was leftover ham! Salted kippers, hard peppery sausages, crisp bacon strips, boiled, fried, or scrambled eggs on the sideboard, warming in candle-heated covered servers!