He went off to bed with a suddenness that was almost disconcerting. Thus deserted, Mr. Truefitt finished his whiskey and water and, his head full of plans for the betterment of everybody connected with him, blew out the lamp and went upstairs. Owing possibly to his efforts in this direction Captain Trimblett and Mrs. Chinnery scarcely saw him until Friday afternoon, when he drove up in a fly, and, after handing out Miss Willett with great tenderness, proceeded with almost equal care to assist her mother. The latter, a fragile little old lady, was at once conducted to a chair and, having been comfortably seated was introduced to Mrs. Chinnery. “It’s a long way,” she said, as her daughter divested her of her bonnet and shawl, “but Cissie would insist on my coming, and I suppose, after all, it’s only right I should.” “Of course, mother,” said Miss Willett, hurriedly. “Right is right,” continued the old lady, “after all is said and done. And I’m sure Mr. Truefitt has been to ours often enough.” Mr. Truefitt coughed, and the captain—a loyal friend—assisted him. “Night after night,” said the old lady, during a brief interval. Mr. Truefitt, still coughing slightly, began to place chairs at a table on which, as the captain presently proved to his own dissatisfaction, there was not even room for a pair of elbows. At the last moment the seating arrangements had to be altered owing to a leg of the table which got in the way of Mrs. Willett’s. The captain, in his anxiety to be of service, lowered a leaf of the table too far, and an avalanche of food descended to the floor. “It don’t matter,” said Mrs. Chinnery, in a voice that belied her words. “Captain Trimblett is always doing something like that. The last time we had visitors he—” “Kept on eating the cake after she had shaken her head at me,” interrupted the captain, who was busy picking up the provisions. “Nothing of the kind,” cried Mrs. Chinnery, who was in no mood for frivolity. “I shouldn’t think of doing such a thing,” she added, turning to Mrs. Willett, as the lady allowed herself to be placed in a more convenient position. “It’s all Captain Trimblett’s nonsense.” Mrs. Willett listened politely, “It _is_ annoying, though,” she remarked. “He might eat all the cake in the house for what I care,” said Mrs. Chinnery, turning very red, and raising her voice a little. “As a matter of fact I don’t like cake,” said the captain, who was becoming uncomfortable. “Perhaps it was something else,” said the excellent Mrs. Willett, with the air of one assisting to unravel a mystery. Mrs. Chinnery, who was pouring out tea, glared at her in silence. She also spared a glance for Captain Trimblett, which made that gentleman seriously uneasy. With an idea of turning the conversation into safer and more agreeable channels, he called the old lady’s attention to a pencil drawing of a ruined castle which adorned the opposite wall. Mrs. Willett’s first remark was that it had no roof.