, while reading in the eyes of one or two that
they had grasped this opportunity of revenge. But Regatta Day happens
on a Wednesday, when the banks in Troy close early; and these cheques
were accepted with an unflattering show of suspicion.

The longest day, however, has its end. All these vexations served at
least to distract our friend's mind from the morning's discovery; and
when at length, the last gun fired, he dropped into a boat to be pulled
for shore, he was too far exhausted physically--having found scarcely a
moment for bite or sup--to load his mind any more than did Walton's
milk-maid "with any fears of many things that will never be."

He reached home, washed off the cares of the day and the reek of black
gunpowder together in a warm bath, dressed himself with more than
ordinary spruceness, and was descending the stair on his way to Bias's
garden, when at the foot of them he was amazed to find Mrs Bowldler,
seated and rocking herself to and fro with her apron cast over her head.
Nay, in the dusk of the staircase he but just missed turning a
somersault over her.

"Hullo! Why, what's the matter, missus?"

"Oh--oh!" sobbed Mrs Bowldler. "Bitter is the bread of poverty, deny it
who can! And me, that have gone about Troy streets in my time with one
pound fifteen's worth of feathers on my hat! Ostrich. And now to be
laying a table for the likes of _her_, that before our reverses I
wouldn't have seen in the street when I passed her!"

Captain Cai, already severely shaken by the events of the day, put a
hand to his head.

"For goodness' sake, woman, talk sense to me! _Who_ is it you're
meanin'?--Mrs Bosenna? And what's this talk about layin' table?"

"Mrs Bosenna?" echoed Mrs Bowldler, who had by this time arisen from the
stair. She drew her skirts close with a gesture of dignity. "It is not
for me to drag Mrs Bosenna into our conversation, sir--far from it,--and
I hope I know my place better. For aught I know, Captain Hocken--if,
as a _menial_, I may use the term--"

"Not at all," said Captain Cai vaguely, as she paused with elaborate
humility.

"For aught that I know, sir, Mrs Bosenna may be a Duchess fresh dropped
from heaven. I _have_ heard it mentioned in a casual way that she came
from Holsworthy in Devon, and (unless my memory deceives me, sir)
nothing relative to Duchesses was dropped--or not at the time, at least.
But I pass no remarks on Mrs Bosenna. If she chose to marry an old man