“I’ve been deceived,” said Mr. Nugent in a thrilling voice; “you’ve all been deceiving me. Kybird, I blush for you (that will save you a lot of trouble). Teddy, I wouldn’t have believed it of you. I can’t stay here; my heart is broken.” [Illustration: “But suppose she asks me to?’ said the delighted Mr. Nugent.”] “Well we don’t want you to,” retorted the aggressive Mrs. Kybird. “You can take yourself off as soon as ever you like. You can’t be too quick to please me.” Mr. Nugent bowed and walked past the counter. “And not even a bit of wedding-cake for me,” he said, shaking a reproachful head at the heated Mr. Silk. “Why, I’d put you down first on _my_ list.” He paused at the door, and after a brief intimation that he would send for his effects on the following day, provided that his broken heart had not proved fatal in the meantime, waved his hand to the company and departed. Mr. Kybird followed him to the door as though to see him off the premises, and gazing after the receding figure swelled with indignation as he noticed that he favoured a mode of progression which was something between a walk and a hornpipe. Mr. Nugent had not been in such spirits since his return to Sunwich, and, hardly able to believe in his good fortune, he walked on in a state of growing excitement until he was clear of the town. Then he stopped to consider his next move, and after a little deliberation resolved to pay a visit to Jem Hardy and acquaint him with the joyful tidings. That gentleman, however, was out, and Mr. Nugent, somewhat irritated at such thoughtlessness, stood in the road wondering where to go next. It was absolutely impossible for him to sleep that night without telling the good news to somebody, and after some thought he selected Mr. Wilks. It was true that relations had been somewhat strained between them since the latter’s attempt at crimping him, but he was never one to bear malice, and tonight he was full of the kindliest thoughts to all mankind. He burst into Mr. Wilks’s front room suddenly and then pulled up short. The steward, with a pitiable look of anxiety on his pallid features, was leaning awkwardly against the mantelpiece, and opposite him Mrs. Silk sat in an easy-chair, dissolved in tears. “Busy, Sam?” inquired Mr. Nugent, who had heard of the steward’s difficulties from Hardy. “No, sir,” said Mr. Wilks, hastily; “sit down, sir.” He pushed forward a chair and, almost pulling his visitor into it, stood over him attentively and took his hat. “Are you quite sure I’m not interrupting you?” inquired the thoughtful Mr. Nugent. “Certain sure, sir,” said Mr. Wilks, eagerly. “I was just ’aving a bit of a chat with my neighbour, Mrs. Silk, ’ere, that’s all.” The lady in question removed her handkerchief from her eyes and gazed at him with reproachful tenderness. Mr. Wilks plunged hastily into conversation. “She came over ’ere to tell me a bit o’ news,” he said, eyeing the young man doubtfully. “It seems that Teddy——”