His temper improved as the evening wore on.  By the time supper was finished and his pipe alight he became almost jocular, and the coldness of Miss Evans was the only drawback to an otherwise enjoyable evening.

“Just showing off a little temper,” said her father, after she had withdrawn; “and wants to show she ain’t going to forgive you too easy.  Not but what you behaved badly; however, let bygones be bygones, that’s my idea.”

The behavior of Miss Evans was so much better next day that it really seemed as though her father’s diagnosis was correct.  At dinner, when the men came home from work, she piled Mr. Carter’s plate up so generously that her father and brother had ample time at their disposal to watch him eat.  And when he put his hand over his glass she poured half a pint of good beer, that other men would have been thankful for, up his sleeve.

[Illustration:  “She piled Mr. Carter’s plate up so generously that her father and brother had ample time at their disposal to watch him eat.”]

She was out all the afternoon, but at tea time she sat next to Mr. Carter, and joined brightly in the conversation concerning her marriage.  She addressed him as Bert, and when he furtively pressed her hand beneath the table-cloth she made no attempt to withdraw it.

“I can’t think how it was you didn’t know him at first,” said her father.  “You’re usually wide-awake enough.”

“Silly of me,” said Nancy; “but I am silly sometimes.”

Mr. Carter pressed her hand again, and gazing tenderly into her eyes received a glance in return which set him thinking.  It was too cold and calculating for real affection; in fact, after another glance, he began to doubt if it indicated affection at all.

“It’s like old times, Bert,” said Miss Evans, with an odd smile.  “Do you remember what you said that afternoon when I put the hot spoon on your neck?”

“Yes,” was the reply.

“What was it?” inquired the girl.

“I won’t repeat it,” said Mr. Carter, firmly.

He was reminded of other episodes during the meal, but, by the exercise of tact and the plea of a bad memory, did fairly well.  He felt that he had done very well indeed when, having cleared the tea-things away, Nancy came and sat beside him with her hand in his.  Her brother grunted, but Mr. Evans, in whom a vein of sentiment still lingered, watched them with much satisfaction.

Mr. Carter had got possession of both hands and was murmuring fulsome flatteries when the sound of somebody pausing at the open door caused them to be hastily withdrawn.

“Evening, Mr. Evans,” said a young man, putting his head in.  “Why, halloa!  Bert!  Well, of all the——­”

“Halloa!” said Mr. Carter, with attempted enthusiasm, as he rose from his chair.

“I thought you was lost,” said the other, stepping in and gripping his hand.  “I never thought I was going to set eyes on you again.  Well, this is a surprise.  You ain’t forgot Joe Wilson, have you?”