[Illustration:  “He said that a bit o’ wedding-cake ’ad blowed in his eye.”]

“They’ll soon get tired of it,” said Hardy.

Mr. Wilks, still gloomy, ventured to doubt it, but cheered up and became almost bright when his visitor announced his intention of trying to smooth over matters for him at Equator Lodge.  He became quite voluble in his defence, and attached much importance to the fact that he had nursed Miss Nugent when she was in long clothes and had taught her to whistle like an angel at the age of five.

“I’ve felt being cut adrift by her more than anything,” he said, brokenly.  “Nine-an’-twenty years I sailed with the cap’n and served ’im faithful, and this is my reward.”

Hardy pleaded his case next day.  Miss Nugent was alone when he called, and, moved by the vivid picture he drew of the old man’s loneliness, accorded her full forgiveness, and decided to pay him a visit at once.  The fact that Hardy had not been in the house five minutes she appeared to have overlooked.

“I’ll go upstairs and put my hat and jacket on and go now,” she said, brightly.

“That’s very kind of you,” said Hardy.  His voice expressed admiring gratitude; but he made no sign of leaving his seat.

“You don’t mind?” said Miss Nugent, pausing in front of him and slightly extending her hand.

“Not in the least,” was the reply; “but I want to see Wilks myself.  Perhaps you’ll let me walk down with you?”

The request was so unexpected that the girl had no refusal ready.  She hesitated and was lost.  Finally, she expressed a fear that she might keep him waiting too long while she got ready—­a fear which he politely declined to consider.

“Well, we’ll see,” said the marvelling Miss Nugent to herself as she went slowly upstairs.  “He’s got impudence enough for forty.”

She commenced her preparations for seeing Mr. Wilks by wrapping a shawl round her shoulders and reclining in an easy-chair with a novel.  It was a good story, but the room was very cold, and even the pleasure of snubbing an intrusive young man did not make amends for the lack of warmth.  She read and shivered for an hour, and then with chilled fingers lit the gas and proceeded to array herself for the journey.

Her temper was not improved by seeing Mr. Hardy sitting in the dark over a good fire when she got downstairs.

“I’m afraid I’ve kept you waiting,” she said, crisply.

“Not at all,” said Hardy.  “I’ve been very comfortable.”

Miss Nugent repressed a shiver and, crossing to the fire, thoughtlessly extended her fingers over the blaze.

“I’m afraid you’re cold,” said Hardy.

The girl looked round sharply.  His face, or as much of it as she could see in the firelight, bore a look of honest concern somewhat at variance with the quality of his voice.  If it had not been for the absurdity of altering her plans on his account she would have postponed her visit to the steward until another day.