He started and stared more intently than before. He was not an imaginative man, but he had in his mind’s eye a sudden vision of his only son waving farewells from the deck of the whaler as she emerged from the harbour into the open sea, while Amelia Kybird tore her yellow locks ashore. It was a vision to cheer any self-respecting father’s heart, and he brought his mind back with some regret to the reality of the anchored ship. He walked home slowly. At the Kybirds’ door the proprietor, smoking a short clay pipe, eyed him with furtive glee as he passed. Farther along the road the Hardys, father and son, stepped briskly together. Altogether a trying walk, and calculated to make him more dissatisfied than ever with the present state of affairs. When his daughter shook her head at him and accused him of going off on a solitary frolic his stock of patience gave out entirely. A thoughtful night led to a visit to Mr. Wilks the following evening. It required a great deal of deliberation on his part before he could make up his mind to the step, but he needed his old steward’s assistance in a little plan he had conceived for his son’s benefit, and for the first time in his life he paid him the supreme honour of a call. [Illustration: “The proprietor eyed him with furtive glee as he passed.”] The honour was so unexpected that Mr. Wilks, coming into the parlour in response to the tapping of the captain’s stick on the floor, stood for a short time eyeing him in dismay. Only two minutes before he had taken Mr. James Hardy into the kitchen to point out the interior beauties of an ancient clock, and the situation simply appalled him. The captain greeted him almost politely and bade him sit down. Mr. Wilks smiled faintly and caught his breath. “Sit down,” repeated the captain. “I’ve left something in the kitchen, sir,” said Mr. Wilks. “I’ll be back in half a minute.” The captain nodded. In the kitchen Mr. Wilks rapidly and incoherently explained the situation to Mr. Hardy. “I’ll sit here,” said the latter, drawing up a comfortable oak chair to the stove. “You see, he don’t know that we know each other,” explained the apologetic steward, “but I don’t like leaving you in the kitchen.” “I’m all right,” said Hardy; “don’t you trouble about me.” He waved him away, and Mr. Wilks, still pale, closed the door behind him and, rejoining the captain, sat down on the extreme edge of a chair and waited. “I’ve come to see you on a little matter of business,” said his visitor. Mr. Wilks smiled; then, feeling that perhaps that was not quite the right thing to do, looked serious again. “I came to see you about my—my son,” continued the captain. “Yes, sir,” said Mr. Wilks. “Master Jack, you mean?” “I’ve only got one son,” said the other, unpleasantly, “unless you happen to know of any more.”