Then promptly there came from Miss Parsh the reminder that it was time for tea. "Very well, Vicky, I dare say Alan would like you to give him a cup," replied Sophy. "Frivolous as ever, Sophia! I give up a hope of forming your character--now!" "Alan is doing that," replied the girl. In spite of her sorrow, Sophy became fairly cheerful on the way back to the hotel. Not so Alan. He was silent and thoughtful, and evidently meditating about the responsibilities of the Marlow estate. As they walked along the parade with their chaperon close behind, they came upon a crowd surrounding a fat man dressed in dingy black. He was reciting a poem, and his voice boomed out like a great organ. As they passed, Alan noticed that he darted a swift glance at them, and eyed Miss Marlow in a particularly curious manner. The recitation was just finished, and the hat was being sent round. Sophy, always kind-hearted, dropped in a shilling. The man chuckled. "Thank you, lady," said he; "the first of many I hope." Alan frowned, and drew his _fiancée_ away. He took little heed of the remark at the time; but it occurred to him later, when circumstances had arisen which laid more stress on its meaning. Miss Vicky presided over the tea--a gentle feminine employment in which she excelled. She did most of the talking; for Sophy was silent, and Alan inclined to monosyllables. The good lady announced that she was anxious to return to Heathton. "The house weighs on my mind," said she, lifting her cup with the little finger curved. "The servants are not to be trusted. I fear Mrs. Crammer is addicted to ardent spirits. Thomas and Jane pay too much attention to one another. I feel a conviction that, during my absence, the bonds of authority will have loosened." "Joe," said Alan, setting down his cup; "Joe is a great disciplinarian." "On board a ship, no doubt," assented Miss Vicky; "but a rough sailor cannot possibly know how to control a household. Joseph is a fine, manly fellow, but boisterous--very boisterous. It needs my eye to make domestic matters go smoothly. When will you be ready to return, Sophy, my dear?" "In a week--but Alan has suggested that we should go abroad." "What! and leave the servants to wilful waste and extravagance? My love!"--Miss Vicky raised her two mittened hands--"think of the bills!" "There is plenty of money, Vicky." "No need there should be plenty of waste. No; if we go abroad, we must either shut up the house or let it." "To the Quiet Gentleman?" said Sophy, with a laugh. Alan looked up suddenly. "No, not to him. He is a mysterious person," said Miss Vicky. "I do not like such people, though I dare say it is only village gossip which credits him with a strange story." "Just so," put in Alan. "Don't trouble about him." Miss Vicky was still discussing the possibility of a trip abroad, when the waiter entered with a note for Sophy.