“All right?” queried the captain, closing the door and crossing to a chair. “Right as ninepence,” said Mr. Truefitt. “I’ve been worrying myself all this time for nothing. Judging by her manner, she seemed to think it was the most natural and proper thing in the world.” “So it is,” said the captain, warmly. “She talked about it as calmly as though she had a brother married every week,” continued Mr. Truefitt. “I don’t suppose she has quite realized it yet.” “I don’t know that I have,” said the captain. “This has been the only home I’ve had for the last ten years; and if _I_ feel leaving it, what must it be for her?” Mr. Truefitt shook his head. “I’m beginning to feel old,” said the captain, “old and lonely. Changes like this bring it home to one.” He took out his pouch, and shaking his head solemnly began to fill his pipe again. “You ought to follow my example,” said Mr. Truefitt, eagerly. “Too old,” said the captain. “Nonsense!” said the other. “And the older you get, the lonelier you’ll feel. Mind that!” “I shall go and live with my boys and girls when I leave the sea,” said the captain. “They’ll probably be married themselves by that time,” said his comforter. He rose, and, going to an old corner cupboard, took out a bottle of whiskey and a couple of glasses and put them on the table. The captain, helping himself liberally, emptied his glass to Miss Willett. “She’s coming to tea on Friday, with her mother,” said Mr. Truefitt. Captain Trimblett took some more whiskey and solemnly toasted Mrs. Willett. He put his glass down, and lighting his pipe, which had gone out, beamed over at his friend. “Are there any more in the family?” he inquired. “There’s an uncle,” said Mr. Truefitt, slowly, “and——” “One at a time,” said the captain, stopping him with one hand raised, while he helped himself to some more whiskey with the other. “The uncle!” He drank the third glass slowly, and, sinking back in his chair, turned to his friend with a countenance somewhat flushed and wreathed in smiles. “Who else?” he inquired. “No more to-night,” said Mr. Truefitt, firmly, as he got up and put the bottle back in the cupboard. He came back slowly, and, resuming his seat, gazed in a meditative fashion at his friend. “Talking about your loneliness—” he began. “My loneliness?” repeated the captain, staring at him. “You were talking about feeling lonely,” Mr. Truefitt reminded him. “So I was,” said the captain. “So I was. You’re quite right; but it’s all gone now. It’s wonderful what a little whiskey will do.” “Wonderful what a lot will do,” said Mr. Truefitt, with sudden asperity. “You were talking about your loneliness, and I was advising you to get married.” “So you were,” said the captain, nodding at him. “Good-night.”