All the rest of that day George felt as if he were walking on air. He made plans for his whole life ahead, and already saw himself an admiral. He thought it would not be right to speak of this beautiful plan for him to any one until his mother knew it, and so he would give no hint to Betty, or even tell it, as he longed to do, to Billy. But when in his room in the afternoon, before the Christmas dinner, Rattler jumped upon him and licked his hands, George could not forbear whispering to him: “Good dog, your master will soon be a midshipman!” He had gone to his room to carry out his intention of reading every day something out of a useful book; but his heart was too full to read, and his book lay unopened while he sat before the fire in a happy dream, slowly passing Rattler’s silky ears through his hand. From his chair he could see through his window the handsome frigate lying motionless in the stream. Some of the men were dancing on the fok’sle to the sound of a fiddle and tambour played by two of the crew. In George’s eyes, infatuated as he was with the navy, she was the stateliest beauty of a ship he had ever seen, and he thought every man on her must be altogether happy.