“And when my young friend comes with his pipe you’ll be in another room,” he concluded, warningly.

Miss Nugent looked up and patted his cheek tenderly.  “What a talent for organization you have,” she remarked, softly.  “A place for everything and everything in its place.  The idea of his taking such a fancy to you!”

The captain coughed and eyed her suspiciously.  He had been careful not to tell her Hardy’s reasons for coming, but he had a shrewd idea that his caution was wasted.

“Today is Thursday,” said Kate, slowly; “he will be here to-morrow and Saturday.  What shall I wear?”

The captain resumed his gardening operations by no means perturbed at the prophecy.  Much as he disliked the young man he gave him credit for a certain amount of decency, and his indignation was proportionately great the following evening when Bella announced Mr. Hardy.  He made a genial remark about Shylock and a pound of flesh, but finding that it was only an excellent conversational opening, the subject of Shakespeare’s plays lapsed into silence.

It was an absurd situation, but he was host and Hardy allowed him to see pretty plainly that he was a guest.  He answered the latter’s remarks with a very ill grace, and took covert stock of him as one of a species he had not encountered before.  One result of his stock-taking was that he was spared any feeling of surprise when his visitor came the following evening.

“It’s the thin end of the wedge,” said Miss Nugent, who came into the room after Hardy had departed; “you don’t know him as well as I do.”

“Eh?” said her father, sharply.

“I mean that you are not such a judge of character as I am,” said Kate; “and besides, I have made a special study of young men.  The only thing that puzzles me is why you should have such an extraordinary fascination for him.”

“You talk too much, miss,” said the captain, drawing the tobacco jar towards him and slowly filling his pipe.

Miss Nugent sighed, and after striking a match for him took a seat on the arm of his chair and placed her hand on his shoulder.  “I can quite understand him liking you,” she said, slowly.

The captain grunted.

“And if he is like other sensible people,” continued Miss Nugent, in a coaxing voice, “the more he sees of you the more he’ll like you.  I do hope he has not come to take you away from me.”

[Illustration:  “I do hope he has not come to take you away from me.”]

The indignant captain edged her off the side of his chair; Miss Nugent, quite undisturbed, got on again and sat tapping the floor with her foot.  Her arm stole round his neck and she laid her cheek against his head and smiled wickedly.

“Nice-looking, isn’t he?” she said, in a careless voice.

“I don’t know anything about his looks,” growled her father.

Miss Nugent gave a little exclamation of surprise.  “First thing I noticed,” she said, with commendable gravity.  “He’s very good-looking and very determined.  What are you going to give him if he gets poor Jack out of this miserable business?”