“Whe-ew! a second time this morning!  Come!  I’m getting up quite the reputation of a lady-killer!” thought the young man.  Then with a light laugh, he looked up to Mrs. Waugh, and said: 

“My dear madam, do you take me for a man who would willingly disturb the peace or honor of a family?”

“Pshaw!  By no means, my dear Thurston.  Of course I know it’s all the most ridiculous nonsense!”

“Well!  By the patience of Job, I do think—­”

Again Thurston’s words were suddenly cut short, by the entrance of—­the commodore, who planted his cane down with his usual emphatic force, and said: 

“Oh, sir!  You here!  I am very glad of it!  There is a little matter to be discussed between you and me!  Old Hen! leave us! vanish! evaporate!”

Henrietta was well pleased to do so.  And as she closed the door the commodore turned to Thurston, and with another emphatic thump of his cane, said: 

“Well, sir! a small craft is soon rigged, and a short speech soon made.  In two words, how dare you, sir! make love to Jacquelina?”

“My dear uncle—­”

“By Neptune, sir; don’t ‘uncle’ me.  I ask you how you dared to make love to my niece?”

“Sir, you mistake, she made love to me.”

“You impudent, impertinent, unprincipled jackanape.”

“Come,” said Thurston to himself, “I have got into a hornet’s nest this morning.”

“I shall take very good care, sir, to have Major Le Roy informed what sort of a gentleman it is who is paying his addresses to his daughter.”

“Miss Le Roy will be likely to form a high opinion of me before this week is out,” said Thurston, laughing.

“You—­you—­you graceless villain, you,” cried the commodore in a rage—­“to think that I had such confidence in you, sir; defended you upon all occasions, sir; refused to believe in your villainy, sir; refused to close my doors against you, sir.  Yes, sir; and should have continued to do so, but for last night’s affair.”

“Last night’s affair!  I protest, sir, I do not in the least understand you?”

“Oh! you don’t.  You don’t understand that after the lecture last evening, in leaving the place, Jacquelina thrust her arm through yours—­no; I mean through Grim’s, mistaking him for you, and said—­what she never would have said, had there not been an understanding between you.”

Thurston’s face was now the picture of astonishment and perplexity.  The commodore seemed to mistake it for a look of consternation and detected guilt, for he continued: 

“And now, sir, I suppose you understand what is to follow.  Do you see that door?  It leads straight into the hall, which leads directly through the front portal out into the lawn, and on to the highway—­that is your road, sir.  Good-morning.”

And the commodore thumped down his stick and left the room—­the image of righteous indignation.

Thurston nodded, smiled slightly, drew his tablets from his pocket, tore a leaf out, took his pencil, laid the paper upon the corner of the mantel-piece, wrote a few lines, folded the note, and concealed it in his hand as the door opened, and admitted Mrs. Waugh, Marian and Jacquelina.  There was a telegraphic glance between the elder lady and the young man.