“We’ll look after your interests,” said Mrs. Banks, with a benevolent smile. “Don’t you remember meeting me by the church the other night and telling me that you were going to marry Mrs. Church in October?” “No,” bawled the affrighted man. “Clean gone,” said Mrs. Church, shaking her head; “it’s no use.” “Not a bit,” said Mrs. Banks. “October seems rather early,” said Mrs. Church, “especially as he is in mourning for his nephew. “There’s no reason for waiting,” said Mrs. Banks, decidedly. “I daresay it’s his loneliness that makes him want to hurry it. After all, he ought to know what he wants.” “I never said a word about it,” interposed Captain Barber, in a loud voice. “All right,” said Mrs. Banks, indulgently. “What are you going to wear, my dear?” she added, turning to the housekeeper. Mrs. Church seemed undecided, and Captain Barber, wiping the moisture from his brow, listened as one in a dream to a long discussion on the possibilities of her wardrobe. Thrice he interrupted, and thrice the ladies, suspending their conversation for a moment, eyed him with tender pity before resuming it. “Me and Frank thought of October,” said Elizabeth, speaking for the first time. She looked at Captain Barber, and then at her mother. It was the look of one offering to sell a casting vote. “October’s early,” said the old lady, bridling. Mrs. Church looked up at her, and then modestly looked down again. “Why not a double wedding?” she asked, gently. Captain Barber’s voice was drowned in acclamations. Elizabeth kissed Mrs. Church, and then began to discuss her own wardrobe. The owner of the house, the owner of the very chairs on which they were sitting, endeavoured in vain to stop them on a point of order, and discovered to his mortification that a man without a memory is a man without influence. In twenty minutes it was all settled, and even an approximate date fixed. There was a slight movement on the part of Elizabeth to obtain Captain Barber’s opinion upon that, but being reminded by her mother that he would forget all about it in half an hour’s time, she settled it without him. “I’m so sorry about your memory, Captain Barber,” said Mrs. Banks, as she prepared to depart. “I can understand what a loss it is. My memory’s a very good one. I never forget anything.” “You forget yourself, ma’am,” returned her victim, with unconscious ambiguity, and, closing the door behind her, returned to the parlour to try and think of some means of escaping from the position to which the ingenuity of Captain Nibletts, aided by that of Mrs. Banks, had brought him. CHAPTER XIX.