Again they walked in silence. The daintiest of hoar-frosts lay over the Park; on Putney Heath they had passed skaters. The keen wind had reddened the Captain's nose, and Louie could not help smiling as he took out his handkerchief for the twentieth time. She had remembered Mr. Mackie. "Ought to have a silk one a day like this," Chaff grunted, blowing hard. "Makes you perfectly raw.... I say, dear old Mops----" "What, old boy?" "Anything _I_ could have done, you know----" She squeezed his arm again. "I shall be giving you plenty to do presently. And you say he's not a bad sort." "Oh----" said the Captain doubtfully. "Well, you'll take me in, and then wait outside till I've seen for myself." But at that Chaff rebelled. "Hanged if I do--dash it all, it's a public-house! You'll find me in the parlour or whatever it is." "How old is he?" "Let me see: he'll be fifty. Yes, he'll be fifty. Your mother's fifty-four." "You'll remember your promise, Chaff?" "About where you are? Oh, I'll be mum as the grave. Don't you forget yours." "No. You shall come and see me." The Captain sighed. His Mops was a strange being. That fool Moone had taken the wrong way with her, but a better way might have been found than this. Well, Chaff would have a word or two with Mr. Buck Causton himself. They continued their walk. When Louie had first resolved that she would seek her father, nothing had seemed more natural. In prospect, the thing had been simplicity itself. But it was, somehow, less simple now. Indeed, its difficulties had increased with every step she took. What about Buck? Must he necessarily make her so very welcome? Suppose, when she made her announcement, he should shake hands, ask how her mother was, offer her tea (or whatever publicans did offer ladies), say he had been very glad to see her, and let her go again? How, in the face of that, could she say: "I am your daughter; I really don't know why I have come; I have stayed away a good long time, but here I am, needing friends; why I need friends I will explain to your wife." Was it not likely that Buck had had more than enough of her family? Had Chaff, as they descended to Kingston, once more urged that she was on a wild-goose chase, as likely as not she would have turned back at the first word. They reached Buck's public-house--The Molyneux Arms, near the corner of Kingston Bridge. "Well," said Chaff, stopping, "what do we do now, Mops?"