He was about to move off, after pretending to pinch the ear of the infuriated Mr. Wragg, when he noticed a station-fly, with a big trunk on the box-seat, crawling slowly up the hill towards them. “Good riddance,” said Mr. Wragg, suggestively. The other paid no heed. The vehicle came nearer, and a girl, who plainly owed none of her looks to Mr. Wragg’s side of the family, came into view behind the trunk. She waved her hand, and Mr. Wragg, removing his pipe from his mouth, waved it in return. Mr. Gale edged away about eighteen inches, and, with an air of assumed carelessness, gazed idly about him. He saluted the driver as the fly stopped and gazed hard at the apparition that descended. Then he caught his breath as the girl, approaching her uncle, kissed him affectionately. Mr. Wragg, looking up fiercely at Mr. Gale, was surprised at the expression on that gentleman’s face. “Isn’t it lovely here?” said the girl, looking about her; “and isn’t the air nice?” She followed Mr. Wragg inside, and the driver, a small man and elderly, began tugging at the huge trunk. Mr. Gale’s moment had arrived. “Stand away, Joe,” he said, stepping forward. “I’ll take that in for you.” He hoisted the trunk on his shoulders, and, rather glad of his lowered face, advanced slowly into the house. Uncle and niece had just vanished at the head of the stairs, and Mr. Gale, after a moment’s hesitation, followed. “In ’ere,” said Mr. Wragg, throwing open a door. “Halloa! What are you doing in my house? Put it down. Put it down at once; d’ye hear?” Mr. Gale caught the girl’s surprised glance and, somewhat flustered, swung round so suddenly that the corner of the trunk took the gesticulating Mr. Wragg by the side of the head and bumped it against the wall. Deaf to his outcries, Mr. Gale entered the room and placed the box on the floor. “Where shall I put it?” he inquired of the girl, respectfully. “You go out of my house,” stormed Mr. Wragg, entering with his hand to his head. “Go on. Out you go.” The young man surveyed him with solicitude. “I’m very sorry if I hurt you, Mr. Wragg—” he began. “Out you go,” repeated the other. “It was a pure accident,” pleaded Mr. Gale. “And don’t you set foot in my ’ouse agin,” said the vengeful Mr. Wragg. “You made yourself officious bringing that box in a-purpose to give me a clump o’ the side of the head with it.” Mr. Gale denied the charge so eagerly, and withal so politely, that the elder man regarded him in amazement. Then his glance fell on his niece, and he smiled with sudden malice as Mr. Gale slowly and humbly descended the stairs. [Illustration: “The corner of the trunk took the gesticulating Mr. Wragg by the side of the head.”] “One o’ the worst chaps about here, my dear,” he said, loudly. “Mate o’ one o’ the fishing-boats, and as impudent as they make ’em. Many’s the time I’ve clouted his head for ’im.” The girl regarded his small figure with surprised respect.