“I’ve told him,” she said, returning in a breathless condition and smiling at him. The captain scowled at her. “And he says he’ll be down in a minute.” “Very good,” said the captain, with a nod of dismissal. Miss Jelks went as far as the sideboard, and, taking out a tablecloth, proceeded to set the breakfast, regarding the captain with unaffected interest as she worked. “He ain’t been very well the last day or two,” she said, blandly. The captain ignored her. “Seems to have something on his mind,” continued Miss Jelks, with a toss of her head, as she placed the sugar-bowl and other articles on the table. The captain regarded her steadily for a moment, and then, turning, took up a newspaper. “I should think he never was what you’d call a strong man,” murmured Miss Jelks. “He ain’t got the look of it.” The captain’s temper got the better of him. “Who are you talking about?” he demanded, turning sharply. Miss Jelks’s eyes shone, but there was no hurry, and she smoothed down a corner of the tablecloth before replying. “Your father-in-law, sir,” she said, with a faint air of surprise. Captain Trimblett turned hastily to his paper again, but despite his utmost efforts a faint wheezing noise escaped him and fell like soft music on the ears of Miss Jelks. In the hope that it might be repeated, or that manifestations more gratifying still might be vouchsafed to her, she lingered over her task and coughed in an aggressive fashion at intervals. She was still busy when Hartley came downstairs, and, stopping for a moment at the doorway, stood regarding the captain with a look of timid disapproval. The latter rose and, with a significant glance in the direction of Rosa, shook hands and made a remark about the weather. “When did you return?” inquired Hartley, trying to speak easily. “Last night,” said the other. “I came on here, but you were out.” Hartley nodded, and they sat eying each other uneasily and waiting for the industrious Rosa to go. The captain got tired first, and throwing open the French windows slipped out into the garden and motioned to Hartley to follow. “Joan wrote to you,” he said, abruptly, as soon as they were out of earshot. “Yes,” said the other, stiffly. “Understand, it wasn’t my fault,” said the captain, warmly. “I wash my hands of it. I told her not to.” “Indeed!” said Hartley, with a faint attempt at sarcasm. “It was no concern of mine, of course.” The captain turned on him sharply, and for a moment scathing words hung trembling on his lips. He controlled himself by an effort. “She wrote to you,” he said, slowly, “and instead of waiting to see me, or communicating with me, you spread the news all over the place.” “Nothing of the kind,” said Hartley. “As a matter of fact, it’s not a thing I am anxious to talk about. Up to the present I have only told Rosa.” “Only!” repeated the choking captain. “Only! Only told Rosa! Where was the town-crier? What in the name of common-sense did you want to tell her for?”