Bob, his head still on the counter, partially woke up at the call—­sufficiently so to return a half sound by way of response.

“Bob!” roared Master Cheese again.  “Can’t you hear?”

Bob, his eyes blinking and winking, came in, in answer:  that is, as far as he could get in, for the litter lying about.

“Bring in the jar of tamarinds.”

“The jar of tamarinds!” repeated Bob.  “In here?”

“Yes, in here,” said Master Cheese.  “Now, you needn’t stare.  All you have got to do is to obey orders.”

Bob disappeared, and presently returned, lugging in a big porcelain jar.  He was ordered to “take out the bung, and leave it open.”  He did so, setting it in a convenient place on the floor, near Master Cheese, and giving his opinion gratuitously of the condition of the room.  “Won’t there be a row when Mr. Jan comes in and finds it like this!”

[Illustration:  “Won’t there be a row!”]

“The things will be put away long before he comes,” responded Master Cheese.  “Mind your own business.  And, look here! if anybody comes bothering, Mr. Jan’s out, and Mr. Cheese is out, and they can’t be seen till the morning—­unless it’s some desperate case,” added Master Cheese, somewhat qualifying the instructions—­“a fellow dying, or anything of that.”

Bob withdrew, to fall asleep in the surgery as before, his head and arms on the counter; and Master Cheese recommenced his studies.  Solacing himself first of all with a few mouthfuls of tamarinds, as he intended to do at intervals throughout his labours, he plunged his hands into a mass of incongruous substances—­nitre, chlorate of potass, and sulphur being amongst them.

The Misses West, meanwhile, had resumed their work after supper, and they sewed until the clock struck ten.  Then they put it away, and drew round the fire for a chat, their feet on the fender.  A very short while, and they were surprised by the entrance of Jan.

“My goodness!” exclaimed Miss Amilly.  “It’s never you yet, Mr. Jan!”

“Why shouldn’t it be?” returned Jan, drawing forward a chair, and sitting down by them.  “Did you fancy I was going to sleep there?”

“Master Cheese thought you would keep it up until morning.”

“Oh! did he?  Is he gone to bed?”

“He is in the surgery,” replied Miss Amilly.  “Mr. Jan, you have told us nothing yet about the wedding in the morning.”

“It went off,” answered Jan.

“But the details?  How did the ladies look?”

“They looked as usual, for all I saw,” replied Jan.

“What did they wear?”

“Wear?  Gowns, I suppose.”

“Oh, Mr. Jan!  Surely you saw better than that!  Can’t you tell what sort of gowns?”

Jan really could not.  It may be questioned whether he could have told a petticoat from a gown.  Miss Amilly was waiting with breathless interest, her lips apart.

“Some were in white, and some were in colours, I think,” hazarded Jan, trying to be correct in his good nature.  “Decima was in a veil.”