Mr. Gillat opened the cottage door and, not answering these distressing generalities, fell back on his one fact.  “Look,” he said, pointing to an empty peg, “he must have gone after fir-cones; you see the basket has gone; he took it with him; I am sure he would not have taken it to the ‘Dog.’”

“I believe their whisky is very bad,” Julia said, and seemed to think more of that than the argument of the basket.  “I’ll give him another hour before I set out to look for him.”

She gave him the hour and then, in spite of Mr. Gillat’s entreaties to be allowed to go in her place, set out for Halgrave.  But she did not have to go all the way, for she met her father coming back.  And she early discovered that, if he had not been to the “Dog and Pheasant,” he had been somewhere else where he could get whisky.  They walked home together, and she made neither comments nor inquiries; she did not consider that evening a suitable time.  The Captain was only a little muddled and, as has been before said, a very little alcohol was sufficient to do that; he was quite clear enough to be a good deal relieved by his daughter’s behaviour, and even thought that she noticed nothing amiss.  Indeed, by the morning, he had himself almost come to think there was nothing to notice.

But alas, for the Captain!  He had never learnt to beware of those deceptive people who bide their time and bring into domestic life the diplomatic policy of speaking on suitable occasions only.  He came down-stairs that morning very well pleased with himself; he felt that he had vindicated the rights of man yesterday; this conclusion was arrived at by a rather circuitous route, but it was gratifying; it was also gratifying to think that he had been able to enjoy himself without being found out.  But Julia soon set him right on this last point; she did not reproach him or, as Mrs. Polkington would have done, point out the disgrace he would bring upon them; she only told him that it must not occur again.  She also explained that, while he lived in her house, she had a right to dictate in these matters and, what was more, she was going to do so.

At this the Captain was really hurt; his feeling for dignity was very sensitive, though given to manifesting itself in unusual ways.  “Am I to be dependent for the rest of my days?” he asked.

Julia did not answer; she thought it highly probable.

“Am I to be dictated to at every turn?” he went on.

Julia did answer.  “No,” she said; “I don’t think there will be any need for that.”

Captain Polkington paid no attention to the answer; he was standing before the kitchen fire, apostrophising things in general rather than asking questions.

“Are my goings out and comings in to be limited by my daughter?  Am I to ask her permission before I accept hospitality or make friends?”

“Friends?” said Julia.  “Then it was not ‘The Dog and Pheasant’ you went to, yesterday?  I thought not.”