AN

The host, the hostess, and the guest all remained on their feet in the
noble hall of the Wilbrahams, it not being good etiquette to sit at
removals, even when company calls. Emanuel, fortunately for him, was
adept at perambulation with a full cup of tea in one hand and a hat or
so in the other. There were two things which he really could do--one was
to sing a sentimental song without laughing, and the other was to
balance a cup of tea. And it was only when he was doing the one or the
other that he genuinely lived. During the remainder of his existence he
was merely a vegetable inside a waistcoat. He held his cup without a
tremor while Helen charmingly introduced into it her teaspoon and
stirred up the sugar. Then, after he had sipped and pronounced the
result excellent, he began to admire the Hall and the contents of the
Hall. A proof of his real Christian charity was that, whereas he had
meant to have that Hall for himself, he breathed no word of envy nor
discontent. He praised everything; and presently he arrived at the ship
and ocean, and praised that. He particularly praised the waves.

The heart of James instantly and instinctively softened towards him. For
the realism of those foaming waves had always struck James as the final
miracle of art. And, moreover, this was the first time that any of
Helen's haughty "set" had ever deigned to recognise the merits of the
ship and ocean.

"Where shouldst hang it, Master Prockter?" James genially asked.

"Hang it, uncle?" exclaimed Helen. "Are you going to hang it? Aren't you
going to keep it on the table in your own room?"

She was hoping that it might occupy a position not too prominent. She
did not intend it to be the central decorative attraction of the palace.

"It ought to be hung," said Emanuel. "See, here are the little iron
things for the nails."

This gift of observation pleased James. Emanuel was indeed beginning to
show quite an intelligent interest in the ship and ocean.

"Of course it must be hung," said he.

He was very human, was Jimmy Ollerenshaw. For at least twenty-five years
he had possessed the ship and ocean, and cherished it, always meaning
one day to hang it against the wall as it deserved. And yet he had never
arrived at doing so, though the firm resolution to do so had not a whit
weakened in his mind. And now he was absolutely decided, with the whole
force of his will behind him, to hang the ship and ocean at once.

"There! under the