“He was always WALTER to me, Madam, or rather—­WATTY.  He was so like a favourite young brother of mine, who died young.  That drew us together from the first.  Did dear old WATTY never tell you how he saved my life once?...  No?  So like him!—­he wouldn’t.  But he did, though; yes, by Gad, jumped into fifteen foot of water after me, and kept me up when I was going under for the last time.  Pardon me, but I see a photograph upon your writing-table—­surely, unless I am wrong, that—­”

“That is a portrait of my only brother,” you will say; “he is out in India with his regiment—­perhaps you may have met him there?”

“Thought I knew the face—­met him at Simla, several times,” says the Captain; “wonderful how small the world is!  But have you one of old WATTY’s photos?  I should so like to see whether the dear old chap has altered ...  Ah, I should hardly have known him—­and yet, yes, the same cheery, jolly look, I can trace the boy there, I can see my old WATTY again!  No friends, my dear Mrs. GOSLING, like those we make in early youth!  And he never mentions me now?  Ah! well, he has a very charming excuse for forgetting the past—­though I shall tell him when I see him that I do think he might have remembered his old school-friend a little better than he seems to have done.  Your servant informed me that he was seldom at home quite so early as this, but I thought if I could not see him, I would at least give myself the pleasure of making the acquaintance of his wife, so I just ventured to come in for five minutes.”

“WILLIAM will be so disappointed to have missed you,” you say, eagerly; “can’t you wait and let me give you some tea?  He may be back in half an hour.”

“In half an hour?  Well, ’pon my word, you tempt me very much.  I shouldn’t like to go away without seeing him, but I must send away my cab first—­no, it’s not outside, left it at the corner of the road, as I wasn’t certain of the number—­I s’pose I’ve got enough silver to—­no, I haven’t, by Jove! Could you oblige me by change for a—­well, really, this is very awkward.  I’ve positively come out with only a shilling—­thought it was a sovereign!  I shall have to ask dear old WATTY to accommodate me—­I’ve lent him many a half-crown in the old days.  Absurd predicament to be in, and if I keep my cabman waiting, I don’t know what he mayn’t charge me.  I took him three hours ago.  I tell you what, my dear Mrs. GOSLING; If you’ll advance me a sovereign, I could run out and settle with the fellow, and then it won’t signify how long I wait for WATTY. Can you?  Too good of you, I’m sure!  WATTY will chaff me when he hears I’ve been borrowing like this, ha, ha!” Here your ear, sharpened by affection, catches a well-known turn of the latch-key at your front-door.  “Why, how fortunate!” you exclaim, “here is my husband already, Captain CAULKER.  He will come in as soon as he has changed his shoes.”