“If you can stand it, she can,” said his wife, angrily.

“But I don’t understand,” said Mrs. Stobell, appealingly.  “What yachting trip?”

Mrs. Chalk began to explain; Mr. Stobell helped himself to another slice, and, except for a single glance under his heavy brows at Mr. Chalk, appeared to be oblivious of his surroundings.

“It sounds very nice,” said Mrs. Stobell, after her friend had finished her explanation.  “Perhaps it might do me good.  I have tried a great many things.”

“Mr. Stobell ought to have taken you for a voyage long before,” said Mrs. Chalk, with conviction.  “Still, better late than never.”

“The only thing is,” said Mr. Chalk, speaking with an air of great benevolence, “that if the sea didn’t suit Mrs. Stobell, she would be unable to get away from it.  And, of course, it might upset her very much.”

Mr. Stobell wiped some crumbs from his moustache and looked up.

“No, it won’t,” he said, briefly.

“Is she a good sailor?” queried Mr. Chalk, somewhat astonished at such a remark from that quarter.

“Don’t know,” said Mr. Stobell, passing his cup up.  “But this trip won’t upset her—­she ain’t going.”

Mrs. Chalk exclaimed loudly and exchanged glances of consternation with Mrs. Stobell; Mr. Stobell, having explained the position, took some more bread and butter and munched placidly.

“Don’t you think it would do her good?” said Mrs. Chalk, at last.

“Might,” said Mr. Stobell, slowly, “and then, again, it mightn’t.”

“But there’s no harm in trying,” persisted Mrs. Chalk.

Mr. Stobell made no reply.  Having reached his fifth slice he was now encouraging his appetite with apricot jam.

“And it’s so cheap,” continued Mrs. Chalk.

“That’s the way I look at it.  If she shuts up the house and gets rid of the servants, same as I am going to do, it will save a lot of money.”

She glanced at Mr. Stobell, whose slowly working jaws and knitted brows appeared to indicate deep thought, and then gave a slight triumphant nod at his wife.

“Servants are so expensive,” she murmured.  “Really, I shouldn’t be surprised if we saved money on the whole affair.  And then think of her health.  She has never quite recovered from that attack of bronchitis.  She has never looked the same woman since.  Think of your feelings if anything happened to her.  Nothing would bring her back to you if once she went.”

“Went where?” inquired Mr. Stobell, who was not attending very much.

“If she died, I mean,” said Mrs. Chalk, shortly.

“We’ve all got to die some day,” said the philosophic Mr. Stobell.  “She’s forty-six.”

Mrs. Stobell interposed.  “Not till September, Robert,” she said, almost firmly.

“It wouldn’t be nice to be buried at sea,” remarked Mr. Chalk, contributing his mite to the discussion.  “Of course, it’s very impressive; but to be left down there all alone while the ship sails on must be very hard.”