the Doctor had
sailed for Europe, and we old folks, taking up our residence at
Baroona, had agreed to make common house of it. Of course we were very
dull at first, when we missed half of the faces which had been used to
smile upon us; but this soon wore off. During the succeeding winter I
remember many pleasant evenings, when the Captain, the Major, Mrs.
Buckley, and myself played whist, shilling points and the rigour of the
game, and while Mary Hawker, in her widow's weeds, sat sewing by the
fireside, contentedly enough.

Chapter XLVII

HOW MARY HAWKER SAID "YES."

It was one evening during the next spring, and the game of whist was
over for the night. The servant had just brought in tumblers with a
view to whiskey and water before bed. I was preparing to pay fourteen
shillings to Mrs. Buckley, and was rather nervous about meeting my
partner, the Major's eye, when he, tapping the table with his hand,
spoke:--

"The most childish play, Hamlyn; the most childish play."

"I don't defend the last game," I said. "I thought you were short of
diamonds--at least I calculated on the chance of your being so, having
seven myself. But please to remember, Major, that you yourself lost two
tricks in hearts, in the first game of the second rubber."

"And why, sir?" said the Major. "Tell me that, sir. Because you
confused me by leading queen, when you had ace, king, queen. The most
utterly schoolboy play. I wouldn't have done such a thing at Eton."

"I had a flush of them," I said eagerly. "And I meant to lead ace, and
then get trumps out. But I put down queen by mistake."

"You can make what excuses you like, Hamlyn," said the Major. "But the
fact remains the same. There is one great fault in your character, the
greatest fault I know of, and which you ought to study to correct. I
tell you of it boldly as an old friend. You are too confoundedly chary
in leading out your trumps, and you can't deny it."

"Hallo!" said Captain Brentwood, "who comes so late?"

Mary Hawker rose from her chair, and looked eagerly towards the door.
"I know who it is," she said, blushing. "I heard him laugh."

In another moment the door was thrown open, and in stalked Tom
Troubridge.

"By George!" he said. "Don't all speak to me at once. I feel the
queerest wambling in my innards, as we used to say in Devon, at the
sight of so many old faces. Somehow, a man can't make a new home in a
hurry. It's the people make the home, not the house