“Richard,” said he all at once, “there will have to be a great many changes.”

“There, now he is off!” thought the attache.

The Consul waited a little before he continued.  “It was a heavy loss, which will affect us all.  The ship was not insured.”

“Yes; but, you see,” answered Uncle Richard, in a tone that was most unbecoming in its frivolity, “it is extraordinary what may possibly happen; in the case of a ship, for instance.”

The Consul regarded him expectantly.

“How shall I get on?” thought his brother, looking round vainly for assistance.

“What do you mean, Richard?”

“Yes, he is a wonderful boy, Gabriel is,” said the attache, trying to smile.  “I don’t mean in school, but I mean—­well, I hardly know; well, he knows a good deal about ship-building.”

“What’s the matter with Gabriel?” asked the Consul, quickly.

“Oh, nothing is the matter with Gabriel; he is all right—­quite right.  Did you think there was anything wrong?”

At this moment Rachel entered the room, and Uncle Richard gave a sigh of relief.

Rachel saw in a moment that her father had begun to talk, and went over to the bed.

“Tell me all about it, Rachel,” said the invalid.  “I should like to tell you the whole story, father; everything has turned out so well.  But I am not sure that you could bear the surprise—­and such a joyful surprise, too.”  As she said these words she looked at him calmly.

The invalid began to get impatient, and Rachel took hold of his hand as she continued her story.  “You see, the ship was ready for launching, quite ready, and so away she went just at the very nick of time—­without being burnt, you understand—­out into the fjord; and now she is quite safe, and everything is all right.  Now, father, you know it all.”

“But what about Gabriel?” said the Consul, looking at his brother.

“Oh, it was Gabriel who managed everything, because Tom Robson never came,” said Rachel.

“Drunk, you know; drunk as a lord.  In bed all the time.  Dead drunk—­don’t you see?” said Uncle Richard, explaining his words with signs and gestures.

“There, now, father, you mustn’t ask any more questions,” said Rachel, decidedly.  “Now we have told you the whole story.”

Her father looked at her, and she could just feel the light pressure of his hand on hers.  She then took Uncle Richard with her out of the sick-room, and gave him strict orders not to be there alone in future; an injunction which he found most unreasonable.

Miss Cordsen’s time was fully occupied, both with the invalid, who would have none but her and Rachel near him, and also with getting everything into order again after the preparation for the ball.  In those few days, however, the old lady formed a far higher opinion of Rachel than she had hitherto done.