Captain Barber puffed at his pipe. “None of us are,” he said profoundly. “And Fred might get tired of waiting,” said Mrs. Banks, ruminating. “He’d better let me hear him,” said the uncle, fiercely; “leastways, o’ course, he’s tired o’ waiting in a sense. He’d like to be married.” “There’s young Gibson,” said Mrs. Banks in a thrilling whisper. “What about him?” enquired Barber, surprised at her manner. “Comes round after Elizabeth,” said Mrs. Banks. “No!” said Captain Barber, blankly. Mrs. Banks pursed up her lips and nodded darkly. “Pretends to come and see me,” said Mrs. Banks; “always coming in bringing something new for my legs. The worst of it is he ain’t always careful what he brings. He brought some new-fangled stuff in a bottle last week, and the agonies I suffered after rubbing it in wouldn’t be believed.” “It’s like his impudence,” said the Captain. “I’ve been thinking,” said Mrs. Banks, nodding her head with some animation, “of giving Fred a little surprise. What do you think he’d do if I said they might marry this autumn?” “Jump out of his skin with joy,” said Captain Barber, with conviction. “Mrs. Banks, the pleasure you’ve given me this day is more than I can say.” “And they’ll live with you just the same?” said Mrs. Banks. “Certainly,” said the Captain. “They’ll only be a few doors off then,” said Mrs. Banks, “and it’ll be nice for you to have a woman in the house to look after you.” Captain Barber nodded softly. “It’s what I’ve been wanting for years,” he said, heartily. “And that huss—husskeeper,” said Mrs. Banks, correcting herself—“will go?” “O’ course,” said Captain Barber. “I sha’n’t want no housekeeper with my nevy’s wife in the house. You’ve told Elizabeth, I s’pose?” “Not yet,” said Mrs. Banks, who as a matter of fact had been influenced by the proceedings of that afternoon to bring to a head a step she had hitherto only vaguely contemplated. Elizabeth, who came down the garden again, a little later, accompanied by Mrs. Church, received the news stolidly. A feeling of regret, that the attention of the devoted Gibson must now cease, certainly occurred to her, but she never thought of contesting the arrangements made for her, and accepted the situation with a placidity which the more ardent Barber was utterly unable to understand. “Fred’ll stand on his ’ed with joy,” the unsophisticated mariner declared, with enthusiasm. “He’ll go singing about the house,” declared Mrs. Church. Mrs. Banks regarded her unfavourably. “He’s never _said_ much,” continued Uncle Barber, in an exalted strain; “that ain’t Fred’s way. He takes arter me; he’s one o’ the quiet ones, one o’ the still deep waters what always feels the most. When I tell ’im his face’ll just light up with joy.” “It’ll be nice for you, too,” said Mrs. Banks, with a side glance at the housekeeper; “you’ll have somebody to look after you and take an interest in you, and strangers can’t be expected to do that even if they’re _nice_.”