“And she’s kept house for me for twenty-five years,” continued Mr. Truefitt; “and the surprising thing to me is the way the years have gone. I didn’t realize it until I found an old photograph of hers the other day taken when she was twenty. Men don’t change much.” The captain looked at him—at the close-clipped gray whiskers, the bluish lips, and the wrinkles round the eyes. “No,” he said, stoutly. “But she could live with you just the same.” The other shook his head. “Susanna would never stand another woman in the house,” he said, slowly. “She would go out and earn her own living; that’s her pride. And she wouldn’t take anything from me. It’s turning her out of house and home.” “She’d be turning herself out,” said the captain. “Of course, there is the chance she might marry again,” said the other, slowly. “She’s had several chances, but she refused ’em all.” “From what she said one day,” said the captain, “I got the idea that she has kept from marrying all these years for your sake.” Mr. Truefitt put his pipe down on the table and stared blankly before him. “That’s the worst of it,” he said, forlornly; “but something will have to be done. I’ve been engaged three weeks now, and every time I spend a few minutes with Cecilia—Miss Willett—I have to tell a lie about it.” “You do it very well,” said his friend. “Very well indeed.” “And Susanna regards me as the most truthful man that ever breathed,” continued Mr. Truefitt. “You’ve got a truthful look about you,” said the captain. “If I didn’t know you so well I should have thought the same.” Unconscious of Mr. Truefitt’s regards he rose and, leaning his arm on the fence at the bottom of the garden, watched the river. “Miss Willett thinks she might marry again,” said Mr. Truefitt, picking up his pipe and joining him. “She’d make an excellent wife for anybody—anybody.” The captain assented with a nod. “Nobody could have a better wife,” said Mr. Truefitt. The captain, who was watching an outward-bound barque, nodded again, absently. “She’s affectionate,” pursued Mr. Truefitt, “a wonderful housekeeper, a good conversationalist, a good cook, always punctual, always at home, always—” The captain, surprised at a fluency so unusual, turned and eyed him in surprise. Mr. Truefitt broke off abruptly, and, somewhat red in the face, expressed his fear that the barque would take the mud if she were not careful. Captain Trimblett agreed and, to his friend’s relief, turned his back on him to watch her more closely. It was a comfortable position, with his arms on the fence, and he retained it until Mr. Truefitt had returned to the summer-house. CHAPTER IV