Julia wasted no words now; she sat for a brief minute, stunned by the magnitude of the calamity which had deprived them of the largest part of their income for the next three months; then she began to look round in her mind to see what might be done.  Captain Polkington offered a few not very coherent explanations and excuses, to which she did not listen, and then relapsed into silence.  Johnny sat opposite, rubbing his hands in nervous sympathy, and looking from father to daughter; he took the silence of the one to be as hopeless as that of the other.

“We thought,” he ventured at last, tugging at the parcel now firmly wedged in his pocket.  “We hoped, that is, we thought perhaps we might raise a trifle, it wouldn’t be much help—­”

But neither of the others were listening to him, and Captain Polkington interrupted with his own remedy, “We shall have to manage on credit,” he said; “we can get credit for this three months.”

“We can’t,” Julia assured him; “the greater part of that money was to have paid outstanding bills; we can’t live on credit, because we haven’t got any to live on.”

“That’s nonsense,” her father said; “it can be done with care and economy, and retrenchments.”

Julia did not answer, so Johnny took up the words.  “Yes, yes,” he said, “one can always retrench; it is really marvellous how little one can do with, in fact one is better for it; I feel a different man for having to retrench.  Your mother’s a wonderful woman”—­he stopped, then added doubtfully as he thought of the lost apple tart—­“I suppose, though, she would want to make a good appearance just now, with the engagement, Mr. Frazer in and out.  It is very unfortunate, very.”

By this time he had untied his parcel, and flattening the paper on his knees began to put the contents on the table.  There were some field-glasses, a breast pin, and a few other such things; when he had put them all out he felt in his waistcoat-pocket for his watch.

“They would fetch a trifle,” he said, regarding the row a little proudly.

“Those?” Julia asked, puzzled.

“Yes,” Mr. Gillat said; “not a great deal, of course, but it would be a help—­it might pay the butcher’s bill.  It’s a great thing to have the butcher’s bill paid; I’ve heard my landlady say so; it gives a standing with the other tradespeople, and that’s what you want—­she often says so.”

“You mean you think of selling them for us?” Julia asked, fixing her keen eyes on Johnny, so that he felt very guilty, and as if he ought to excuse himself.  But before he could do it she had swept his belongings together.  “You won’t do anything of the kind,” she said.

“Why not?”

“Because we won’t have it.  Pack them up.”

“Oh, but,” Johnny protested, “it would be a little help, it would indeed; they would fetch something, the glasses are good ones, though a bit old-fashioned, and the watch—­”