The chair came still nearer until at last it touched his, and then Miss Nugent, with a sigh of exaggerated content, allowed her head to sink gracefully on his shoulder. “Most comfortable shoulder in Sunwich,” she murmured; “come and try the other, aunt, and perhaps you’ll get a new bonnet.” Mrs. Kingdom hastened to reassure her brother. She would almost as soon have thought of putting her head on the block. At the same time it was quite evident that she was taking a mild joy in his discomfiture and eagerly awaiting further developments. “When you are tired of this childish behaviour, miss,” said the captain, stiffly—— There was a pause. “Kate!” said Mrs. Kingdom, in tones of mild reproof, “how can you?” “Very good,” said the captain, we’ll see who gets tired of it first. “I’m in no hurry.” A delicate but unmistakable snore rose from his shoulder in reply. CHAPTER VI For the first few days after his return Sunwich was full of surprises to Jem Hardy. The town itself had changed but little, and the older inhabitants were for the most part easily recognisable, but time had wrought wonders among the younger members of the population: small boys had attained to whiskered manhood, and small girls passing into well-grown young women had in some cases even changed their names. The most astounding and gratifying instance of the wonders effected by time was that of Miss Nugent. He saw her first at the window, and with a ready recognition of the enchantment lent by distance took the first possible opportunity of a closer observation. He then realized the enchantment afforded by proximity. The second opportunity led him impetuously into a draper’s shop, where a magnificent shop-walker, after first ceremoniously handing him a high cane chair, passed on his order for pins in a deep and thrilling baritone, and retired in good order. By the end of a week his observations were completed, and Kate Nugent, securely enthroned in his mind as the incarnation of feminine grace and beauty, left but little room for other matters. On his second Sunday at home, to his father’s great surprise, he attended church, and after contemplating Miss Nugent’s back hair for an hour and a half came home and spoke eloquently and nobly on “burying hatchets,” “healing old sores,” “letting bygones be bygones,” and kindred topics. “I never take much notice of sermons myself,” said the captain, misunderstanding. “Sermon?” said his son. “I wasn’t thinking of the sermon, but I saw Captain Nugent there, and I remembered the stupid quarrel between you. It’s absurd that it should go on indefinitely.” “Why, what does it matter?” inquired the other, staring. “Why shouldn’t it? Perhaps it’s the music that’s affected you; some of those old hymns—” “It wasn’t the sermon and it wasn’t the hymns,” said his son, disdainfully; “it’s just common sense. It seems to me that the enmity between you has lasted long enough.”