Luncheon was waiting for them in the coffee-room of the inn, and the table was brave with flowers and bottles of champagne.  Impressed by the occasion George the waiter attended upon them with unusual decorum, and the landlady herself entered the room two or three times to see that things were proceeding properly.

“Here’s to our next meal on shore,” said Mr. Chalk, raising his glass and nodding solemnly at Edward.

“That will be tea for me,” said the latter.  “I shall come back here, I expect, and take a solitary cup to your memory.  Let me have a word as soon as you can.”

“You ought to get a cable from Sydney in about six or seven months,” said his father.

His son nodded.  “Don’t trouble about any expressions of affection,” he urged; “they’d come expensive.  If you find me dead of overwork when you come back——­”

“I shall contest the certificate,” said his father, with unwonted frivolity.

“I wonder how we shall sleep to-night?” said Mrs. Stobell, with a little shiver.  “Fancy, only a few planks between us and the water!”

“That won’t keep me awake,” said Mrs. Chalk, decidedly;” but I shouldn’t sleep a wink if I had left my girls in the house, the same as you have.  I should lie awake all night wondering what tricks they’d be up to.”

“But you’ve left your house unprotected,” said Mrs. Stobell.

“The house won’t run away,” retorted her friend,” and I’ve sent all my valuables to the bank and to friends to take care of, and had all my carpets taken up and beaten and warehoused.  I can’t imagine what Mr. Stobell was thinking of not to let you do the same.”

“There’s a lot as would like to know what I’m thinking of sometimes,” remarked Mr. Stobell, with a satisfied air.

Mrs. Chalk glanced at him superciliously, but, remembering that he was her host, refrained from the only comments she felt to be suitable to the occasion.  Under the tactful guidance of Edward Tredgold the conversation was led to shipwrecks, fires at sea, and other subjects of the kind comforting to the landsman, Mr. Chalk favouring them with a tale of a giant octopus, culled from Captain Bowers’s collection, which made Mrs. Stobell’s eyes dilate with horror.

“You won’t see any octopuses,” said her husband.  “You needn’t worry about them.”

He got up from the table, and crossing to the window stood with his hands behind his back, smoking one of the “King of Hanover’s” cigars.

“Very good smoke this,” he said, taking the cigar from his mouth and inspecting it critically.  “I think I’ll take a box or two with me.”

“Just what I was thinking,” said Mr. Jasper Tredgold.  “Let’s go down and see the landlord.”

Mr. Stobell followed him slowly from the room, leaving Mr. Chalk and Edward to entertain the ladies.  The former gentleman, clad in a neat serge suit, an open collar, and a knotted necktie, leaned back in his chair, puffing contentedly at one of the cigars which had excited the encomiums of his friends.  He was just about to help himself to a little, more champagne when Mr. Stobell, reappearing at the door, requested him to come and give them the benefit of his opinion in the matter of cigars.