At the fifth knock the house shook, and a red-faced maid with her shoulders veiled in a large damp towel passed hastily down the staircase and, slipping the catch, passed more hastily still upstairs again, affording the indignant captain a glimpse of a short striped skirt as it turned the landing. “Is there any management at all in this house?” he inquired, as he entered the room. “Bella was dressing,” said Miss Nugent, calmly, “and you gave orders yesterday that nobody else was to open the door.” “Nobody else when she’s available,” qualified her father, eyeing her sharply. “When I give orders I expect people to use their common sense. Why isn’t my tea ready? It’s five o’clock.” “The clock’s twenty minutes fast,” said Kate. “Who’s been meddling with it?” demanded her father, verifying the fact by his watch. Miss Nugent shook her head. “It’s gained that since you regulated it last night,” she said, with a smile. The captain threw himself into an easy-chair, and with one eye on the clock, waited until, at five minutes to the hour by the right time, a clatter of crockery sounded from the kitchen, and Bella, still damp, came in with the tray. Her eye was also on the clock, and she smirked weakly in the captain’s direction as she saw that she was at least two minutes ahead of time. At a minute to the hour the teapot itself was on the tray, and the heavy breathing of the handmaiden in the kitchen was audible to all. “Punctual to the minute, John,” said Mrs. Kingdom, as she took her seat at the tray. “It’s wonderful how that girl has improved since you’ve been at home. She isn’t like the same girl.” She raised the teapot and, after pouring out a little of the contents, put it down again and gave it another two minutes. At the end of that time, the colour being of the same unsatisfactory paleness, she set the pot down and was about to raise the lid when an avalanche burst into the room and, emptying some tea into the pot from a canister-lid, beat a hasty retreat. “Good tea and well-trained servants,” muttered the captain to his plate. “What more can a man want?” Mrs. Kingdom coughed and passed his cup; Miss Nugent, who possessed a healthy appetite, serenely attacked her bread and butter; conversation languished. “I suppose you’ve heard the news, John?” said his sister. “I daresay I have,” was the reply. “Strange he should come back after all these years,” said Mrs. Kingdom; “though, to be sure, I don’t know why he shouldn’t. It’s his native place, and his father lives here.” “Who are you talking about?” inquired the captain. “Why, James Hardy,” replied his sister. “I thought you said you had heard. He’s coming back to Sunwich and going into partnership with old Swann, the shipbroker. A very good thing for him, I should think.” “I’m not interested in the doings of the Hardys,” said the captain, gruffly. “I’m sure I’m not,” said his sister, defensively.