“He pretends that he goes to see George,” said her father, dropping his voice, “but Truefitt thinks that it is Jessie. I suppose Trimblett won’t mind; he always thought a lot of Saunders. I don’t know whether you ought to interfere.” “Certainly not,” said Joan flushing. “What has it got to do with me?” “Well, I just mentioned it,” said Hartley, “although I suppose Mrs. Chinnery is mostly responsible while they are with her. I am writing to tell Trimblett that the children are at Tranquil Vale. When he comes back perhaps he will make other arrangements.” “Very likely,” said his daughter abruptly, “or perhaps he will marry Mrs. Chinnery.” Mr. Hartley, who was at supper, put down his knife and fork and sat eying her in very natural amazement. “Marry Mrs. Chinnery?” he gasped, “but how can he?” “I mean,” said Joan with a sudden remembrance of the state of affairs, “I mean if anything should happen to me.” Mr. Hartley finished his supper and drawing his chair up to the fire sat smoking in thoughtful silence. “And if anything happens to Trimblett perhaps you will marry again,” he said at last. Miss Hartley shook her head. “I am not afraid of that,” she said ambiguously. Her confidence was put to the test less than a fortnight later by an unexpected visit from Mr. Robert Vyner, who, entering the room in a somewhat breathless condition, accepted a chair and sat gazing at her with an air of mysterious triumph. “I’m the bearer of important news,” he announced. “Dispatches from the front. You’ll hear all about it from your father when he comes home, but I wanted to be the first with it.” “What is the matter?” inquired Joan. Mr. Vyner looked shocked. “All important news, good or bad, should be broken gently,” he said reproachfully. “Do you know any Scotch?” “Scotch!” said the mystified Miss Hartley. Mr. Vyner nodded. “‘The best laid schemes o’ mice and men gang aft agley,’” he quoted in a thrilling voice. “Do you understand that?” “I’ll wait till father comes home,” announced Miss Hartley, with some decision. “There are other quotations bearing on the matter in hand,” said Mr. Vyner, thoughtfully, “but I have forgotten them. At present I am thinking of you to the utter exclusion of everything else. Not that that is anything unusual. Far from it. To cut a long story short, Captain Trimblett has been left behind at San Francisco with malaria, and the mate has taken the ship on.” Miss Hartley gave a little cry of concern. “He has had it before,” said Mr. Vyner composedly, “but he seems to have got it bad this time, and when he is fit enough, he is coming home. Now what are you going to do?” “Poor Captain Trimblett,” said Joan. “I am so sorry.”