"Now seeing I've been as bad as I can be," he said, after he had chased a remaining skin of cream around the dish until he had caught it with his little finger, "I'll go above. I wish I could put this thing on Mary," and he set one plate inside another, "but even if this crockery was found in her pocket, they'd get after me. Mary is a church-member, and I'm a reprobate," and wiping his creamy lips and gaily humming, "We were three jolly sailors," he went up-stairs. He found the parlour deserted. The fire that he had left burning cheerily was now sulking under a heap of ashes, and the lights were turned out,--sure proofs that his Cousin Hippolyta, supposing him to be in bed, had descended and made preparations for the night. "Just nine o'clock," he said, leaning over the grate to examine his battered silver watch by a persevering gleam of firelight. "I wonder what Justin is doing. I'll take an observation," and he went up-stairs on tiptoe. The door of a small dressing-room adjoining Justin's bedroom stood open, and Captain White, who possessed an uncommon sharpness of hearing, thought that he detected a faint noise as he peered in. "Hello, Justin, are you there?" he whispered. "Yes," said the young man, leaving the dark window where he was standing and coming out into the dimly lighted hall. "Won't she let you in?" "She isn't here, Micah." "Where do you keep her?" "On the flat above you." "Up with Mary--in the attic. What's that for?" "Well--you might be able to guess if you tried," said the young man, and he glanced toward the closed door of his mother's room. "H'm--doesn't want to be too near her mother-in-law," reflected Captain White. Then he seized Justin by the arm as if he were a prisoner. "Come up to my den." Marching him up another flight of stairs, he conducted him to a front room. "There, now," he said, "sit down. I know that Morris chair is in the exact place I left it, in this well-rigged house. I can give you a push that will land you in it, though I can't see a thing with those confounded curtains down. You'd better keep on your feet, though, till I strike a light. Your mother'd get after me if I broke one of your legs. Jemima Jane, here we are as snug as possible," and he turned up two gas-jets to the extent of their lighting ability, and then, dropping into a chair, reached out his hand to a drawer and took from it a pipe. Justin, who did not smoke, took off his glasses and indulged in his frequent occupation of polishing them with his handkerchief, blinking his eyes meanwhile in the strong light. "How old are you?" asked Captain White, as he stuffed his pipe full of tobacco. "Thirty." "Lack-a-daisy, it seems only the other day you were born." Justin did not reply to him. He was not much of a talker at any time, and at present he was in a reflective condition of mind in which he did not care to discuss any subject, not even the circumstances connected with his own birth.