Mr. Smith’s inscrutable eyes glistened into something as nearly approaching a twinkle as they were capable. “That’ll settle the five ‘undred,” he said, warmly. “Are you goin’ to send Cap’n Nugent an invite for the wedding?”
[Illustration: “Are you goin’ to send Cap’n Nugent an invite for the wedding?”]
“They’ll ‘ave to be asked, o’ course,” said Mr. Kybird, with an attempt at dignity, rendered necessary by a certain lightness in his friend’s manner. “The old woman don’t like the Nugent lot, but she’ll do the proper thing.”
“O’ course she will,” said Mr. Smith, soothingly. “Come over and ’ave a drink with me, Dan’l it’s your turn to stand.”
Gossip from one or two quarters, which reached Captain Nugent’s ears through the medium of his sister, concerning the preparations for his son’s marriage, prevented him from altering his mind with regard to the visits of Jem Hardy and showing that painstaking young man the door. Indeed, the nearness of the approaching nuptials bade fair to eclipse, for the time being, all other grievances, and when Hardy paid his third visit he made a determined but ineffectual attempt to obtain from him some information as to the methods by which he hoped to attain his ends. His failure made him suspicious, and he hinted pretty plainly that he had no guarantee that his visitor was not obtaining admittance under false pretences.
“Well, I’m not getting much out of it,” returned Hardy, frankly.
“I wonder you come,” said his hospitable host.
“I want you to get used to me,” said the other.
The captain started and eyed him uneasily; the remark seemed fraught with hidden meaning. “And then?” he inquired, raising his bushy eyebrows.
“Then perhaps I can come oftener.”
The captain gave him up. He sank back in his chair and crossing his legs smoked, with his eyes fixed on the ceiling. It was difficult to know what to do with a young man who was apparently destitute of any feelings of shame or embarrassment. He bestowed a puzzled glance in his direction and saw that he was lolling in the chair with an appearance of the greatest ease and enjoyment. Following the direction of his eyes, he saw that he was gazing with much satisfaction at a photograph of Miss Nugent which graced the mantelpiece. With an odd sensation the captain suddenly identified it as one which usually stood on the chest of drawers in his bedroom, and he wondered darkly whether charity or mischief was responsible for its appearance there.
In any case, it disappeared before the occasion of Hardy’s next visit, and the visitor sat with his eyes unoccupied, endeavouring to make conversation with a host who was if anything more discourteous than usual. It was uphill work, but he persevered, and in fifteen minutes had ranged unchecked from North Pole explorations to poultry farming. It was a relief to both of them when the door opened and Bella ushered in Dr. Murchison.