“That’s Captain Flower, I expect,” said his wife, hastily; “he’s going to take Poppy and Emma to a theatre to-night. Don’t let him see you in that state, Peter.” But Mr. Wheeler was already fumbling at the strings of his apron, and, despairing of undoing it, broke the string, and pitched it with the other clothes under the sofa and hastily donned his coat. “Good-evening,” said Flower, as Mr. Wheeler opened the door; “this is my mate.” “Glad to see you, sir,” said Mr. Wheeler. The mate made his acknowledgments, and having shaken hands, carefully wiped his down the leg of his trousers. “Moist hand you’ve got, Wheeler,” said Flower, who had been doing the same thing. “Got some dye on ’em at the docks,” said Wheeler, glibly. “I’ve ’ad ’em in soak.” Flower nodded, and after a brief exchange of courtesies with Mrs. Wheeler as he passed the door, led the way up the narrow staircase to Miss Tyrell’s room. “I’ve brought him with me, so that he’ll be company for Emma Wheeler,” said the skipper, as Fraser shook hands with her, “and you must look sharp if you want to get good seats. “I’m ready all but my hat and jacket,” said Poppy, “and Emma’s in her room getting ready, too. All the children are up there helping her.” Fraser opened his eyes at such a toilet, and began secretly to wish that he had paid more attention to his own. “I hope you’re not shy?” said Miss Tyrell, who found his steadfast gaze somewhat embarrassing. Fraser shook his head. “No, I’m not shy,” he said, quietly. “Because Emma didn’t know you were coming,” continued Miss Tyrell, “and she’s always shy. So you must be bold, you know.” The mate nodded as confidently as he could. “Shyness has never been one of my failings,” he said, nervously. Further conversation was rendered difficult, if not impossible, by one which now took place outside. It was conducted between a small Wheeler on the top of the stairs and Mrs. Wheeler in the parlour below. The subject was hairpins, an article in which it appeared Miss Wheeler was lamentably deficient, owing, it was suggested, to a weakness of Mrs. Wheeler’s for picking up stray ones and putting them in her hair. The conversation ended in Mrs. Wheeler, whose thin voice was heard hotly combating these charges, parting with six, without prejudice; and a few minutes later Miss Wheeler, somewhat flushed, entered the room and was introduced to the mate. “All ready?” enquired Flower, as Miss Tyrell drew on her gloves. They went downstairs in single file, the builder of the house having left no option in the matter, while the small Wheelers, breathing hard with excitement, watched them over the balusters. Outside the house the two ladies paired off, leaving the two men to follow behind.