“I was coming to see you,” he said, leaving his chair and taking one near her, “I met your brother coming along, and he introduced me to Mrs. Kybird and her daughter and suggested we should come together.”

Miss Nugent received the information with a civil bow, and renewed her conversation with Dr. Murchison, whose face showed such a keen appreciation of the situation that Hardy had some difficulty in masking his feelings.

“They’re a long time a-coming,” said Mrs. Kybird, smiling archly; “but there, when young people are keeping company they forget everything and everybody.  They didn’t trouble about me; if it ’adn’t been for Mr.  ’Ardy giving me ’is arm I should never ’ave got here.”

There was a prolonged silence.  Dr. Murchison gave a whimsical glance at Miss Nugent, and meeting no response in that lady’s indignant eyes, stroked his moustache and awaited events.

“It looks as though your brother is not coming,” said Hardy to Miss Nugent.

“He’ll turn up by-and-by,” interposed Mrs. Kybird, looking somewhat morosely at the company.  “They don’t notice ’ow the time flies, that’s all.”

“Time does go,” murmured Mrs. Kingdom, with a glance at the clock.

Mrs. Kybird started.  “Ah, and we notice it too, ma’am, at our age,” she said, sweetly, as she settled herself in her chair and clasped her hands in her lap “I can’t ’elp looking at you, my dear,” she continued, looking over at Miss Nugent.  “There’s such a wonderful likeness between Jack and you.  Don’t you think so, ma’am?”

Mrs. Kingdom in a freezing voice said that she had not noticed it.

“Of course,” said Mrs. Kybird, glancing at her from the corner of her eye, “Jack has ’ad to rough it, pore feller, and that’s left its mark on ’im.  I’m sure, when we took ’im in, he was quite done up, so to speak.  He’d only got what ’e stood up in, and the only pair of socks he’d got to his feet was in such a state of ’oles that they had to be throwed away.  I throwed ’em away myself.”

“Dear me,” said Mrs. Kingdom.

“He don’t look like the same feller now,” continued the amiable Mrs. Kybird; “good living and good clothes ’ave worked wonders in ’im.  I’m sure if he’d been my own son I couldn’t ’ave done more for ’im, and, as for Kybird, he’s like a father to him.”

“Dear me,” said Mrs. Kingdom, again.

Mrs. Kybird looked at her.  It was on the tip of her tongue to call her a poll parrot.  She was a free-spoken woman as a rule, and it was terrible to have to sit still and waste all the good things she could have said to her in favour of unsatisfying pin-pricks.  She sat smouldering.

“I s’pose you miss the capt’in very much?” she said, at last.

“Very much,” was the reply.

“And I should think ’e misses you,” retorted Mrs. Kybird, unable to restrain herself; “’e must miss your conversation and what I might call your liveliness.”