"I wouldn't so much mind him," said Dopsy, plaintively, "if his habits were more human; but there are so many traits in his character--especially his winter cough--which remind one of the lower animals." "Poor old Pater," sighed Jack, with a touch of feeling. _He_ was not often at home. "Would you believe it, that he was once almost a gentleman? Yes, I remember, an early period in my life when I was not ashamed to own him. But when a fellow has been travelling steadily down hill for fifteen years, his ultimate level must be uncommonly low." "True," sighed Mopsy, "_we_ have always tried to rise superior to our surroundings; but it has been a terrible struggle." "There have been summer evenings, when that wretched slavey has been out with her young man, that I have been sorely tempted to fetch the beer with my own hands--there is a jug and bottle entrance at the place where we deal--but I have suffered agonies of thirst rather than so lower myself," said Dopsy, with the complacence of conscious heroism. "Right you are," said Jack, who would sooner have fetched beer in the very eye of society than gone without it; "one must draw the line somewhere." "And to go from a paradise like this to such a den as that," exclaimed Dopsy, still harping on the unloveliness of the Pimlico lodging. "Cheer up, old girl. I daresay Mrs. T. will ask you again. She's very good-natured." "She has behaved like an angel to us," answered Dopsy, "but I can't make her out. There's a mystery somewhere." "There's always a skeleton in the cupboard. Don't you try to haul old Bony out," said the philosophical Captain. This was after luncheon, when Jack and his sisters had the billiard-room to themselves. Mr. Tregonell was in his study, making things straight with his bailiff, coachman, butler, in his usual business-like and decisive manner. Mr. FitzJesse was packing his portmanteau, meaning to sleep that night at Penzance. He was quite shrewd enough to be conscious of the tempest in the air, and was not disposed to inflict himself upon his friends in the hour of trouble, or to be bored by having to sympathize with them in their affliction. He had studied Mrs. Tregonell closely, and he had made up his mind that conduct which was out of harmony with her character must needs be inspired by some powerful motive. He had heard the account of her first engagement--knew all about little Fishky--and he had been told the particulars of her first lover's death. It was not difficult for so astute an observer of human nature to make out the rest of the story. Little Monty had been invited to go as far as Southampton with the travellers. The St. Aubyns declared that home-duties had long been demanding their attention, and that they must positively leave next day.