The longest day, however, has its end.  All these vexations served at least to distract our friend’s mind from the morning’s discovery; and when at length, the last gun fired, he dropped into a boat to be pulled for shore, he was too far exhausted physically—­having found scarcely a moment for bite or sup—­to load his mind any more than did Walton’s milk-maid “with any fears of many things that will never be.”

He reached home, washed off the cares of the day and the reek of black gunpowder together in a warm bath, dressed himself with more than ordinary spruceness, and was descending the stair on his way to Bias’s garden, when at the foot of them he was amazed to find Mrs Bowldler, seated and rocking herself to and fro with her apron cast over her head.  Nay, in the dusk of the staircase he but just missed turning a somersault over her.

“Hullo!  Why, what’s the matter, missus?”

“Oh—­oh!” sobbed Mrs Bowldler.  “Bitter is the bread of poverty, deny it who can!  And me, that have gone about Troy streets in my time with one pound fifteen’s worth of feathers on my hat!  Ostrich.  And now to be laying a table for the likes of her, that before our reverses I wouldn’t have seen in the street when I passed her!”

Captain Cai, already severely shaken by the events of the day, put a hand to his head.

“For goodness’ sake, woman, talk sense to me! Who is it you’re meanin’?—­Mrs Bosenna?  And what’s this talk about layin’ table?”

“Mrs Bosenna?” echoed Mrs Bowldler, who had by this time arisen from the stair.  She drew her skirts close with a gesture of dignity.  “It is not for me to drag Mrs Bosenna into our conversation, sir—­far from it,—­and I hope I know my place better.  For aught I know, Captain Hocken—­if, as a menial, I may use the term—­”

“Not at all,” said Captain Cai vaguely, as she paused with elaborate humility.

“For aught that I know, sir, Mrs Bosenna may be a Duchess fresh dropped from heaven.  I have heard it mentioned in a casual way that she came from Holsworthy in Devon, and (unless my memory deceives me, sir) nothing relative to Duchesses was dropped—­or not at the time, at least.  But I pass no remarks on Mrs Bosenna.  If she chose to marry an old man with her eyes open, it’s not for me to cast it up, beyond saying that some folks know on which side their bread’s buttered. I never dragged in Mrs Bosenna.  You will do me that justice, I hope?”

“Then who the dickens is it you’re talkin’ about?”

“Which to mention any names, sir, it is not my desire; and the best of us can’t help how we was born nor in what position.  But farm service is farm service, call it what you please; and if a party as shall be nameless starts sitting down with her betters, perhaps you will tell me when and where we are going to end?  That, sir, is the very question I put to Captain Hunken; and with all respect, sir, ‘dammit’ doesn’t meet the case.”