Mr. Stobell and his wife had just sat down to tea when they arrived, and Mrs. Stobell, rising from behind a huge tea-pot, gave a little cry of surprise as her friend entered the room, and kissed her affectionately.

[Illustration:  “Mrs. Stobell.”]

“Well, who would have thought of seeing you?” she cried.  “Sit down.”

Mrs. Chalk sat down at the large table opposite Mr. Stobell; Mr. Chalk, without glancing in his wife’s direction, seated himself by that gentleman’s side.

“Well, weren’t you surprised?” inquired Mrs. Chalk, loudly, as her hostess passed her a cup of tea.

“Surprised?” said Mrs. Stobell, curiously.

“Why, hasn’t Mr. Stobell told you?” exclaimed Mrs. Chalk.

“Told me?” repeated Mrs. Stobell, glancing indignantly at the wide-open eyes of Mr. Chalk.  “Told me what?”

It was now Mrs. Chalk’s turn to appear surprised, and she did it so well that Mr. Chalk choked in his tea-cup.  “About the yachting trip,” she said, with a glance at her husband that made his choking take on a ventriloquial effect of distance.

“He—­he didn’t say anything to me about it,” said Mrs. Stobell, timidly.

She glanced at her husband, but Mr. Stobell, taking an enormous bite out of a slice of bread and butter, made no sign.

“It’ll do you a world of good,” said Mrs. Chalk, affectionately.  “It’ll put a little colour in your cheeks.”

Mrs. Stobell flushed.  She was a faded little woman; faded eyes, faded hair, faded cheeks.  It was even whispered that her love for Mr. Stobell was beginning to fade.

“And I don’t suppose you’ll mind the seasickness after you get used to it,” said the considerate Mr. Chalk,” and the storms, and the cyclones, and fogs, and collisions, and all that sort of thing.”

“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.