ears cast a column of figures incorrectly, thereby
putting a great strain on the diplomacy of the junior who made the
discovery.

He left at his usual hour, and, free from the bustle of the office,
tried to realize the full meaning of his interview with Mr. Vyner. He
thought of his pleasant house and garden, and the absence of demand in
Salthaven for dismissed clerks of over fifty. His thoughts turned to
London, but he had grown up with Vyner and Son and had but little to
sell in the open market. Walking with bent head he cannoned against
a passer-by, and, looking up to apologize, caught sight of Captain
Trimblett across the way, standing in front of a jeweller's window.

A tall, sinewy man in a serge suit, whom Hartley recognized as Captain
Walsh, was standing by him. His attitude was that of an indulgent
policeman with a refractory prisoner, and twice Hartley saw him lay hold
of the captain by the coat-sleeve, and call his attention to something
in the window. Anxious to discuss his affairs with Trimblett, Hartley
crossed the road.

"Ah! here's Hartley," said the tall captain, with an air of relief, as
Captain Trimblett turned and revealed a hot face mottled and streaked
with red. "Make him listen to reason. He won't do it for me.

"What's the matter?" inquired Hartley, listlessly.

"A friend o' mine," said Captain Walsh, favouring him with a hideous
wink, "a _great_ friend o' mine, is going to be married, and I want to
give him a wedding present before I go. I sail to-morrow."

"Well, ask _him_ what he'd like," said Trimblett, making another
ineffectual attempt to escape. "Don't bother me."

"I can't do that," said Walsh, with another wink; "it's awkward; besides
which, his modesty, would probably make him swear that he wasn't going
to be married at all. In fact, he has told me that already. I want you
to choose for him. Tell me what _you'd_ like, and no doubt it'll please
him. What do you say to that cruet-stand?"

"D------m the cruet-stand!" said Trimblett, wiping his hot face.

"All right," said the unmoved Walsh, with his arm firmly linked in that
of his friend. "What about a toast-rack? That one!"

"I don't believe in wedding-presents," said Trimblett, thickly. "Never
did. I think it's an absurd custom. And if your friend says he isn't
going to be married, surely he ought to know."

"Shyness," rejoined Captain Walsh--"pure shyness. He's one of the best.
I know his idea. His idea is to be married on t