te again," said Mrs. Chinnery, in tones of hopeless
resignation.

"Business, perhaps," suggested Captain Trimblett, still intent on
Vesuvius.

"For years and years you could have set the clock by him," continued
Mrs. Chinnery, bustling out to the kitchen and bustling back again
with the kettle; "now I never know when to expect him. He was late
yesterday."

Captain Trimblett cleared his throat. "He saw a man nearly run over," he
reminded her.

"Yes; but how long would that take him?" retorted Mrs. Chinnery. "If the
man _had_ been run over I could have understood it."

The captain murmured something about shock.

"On Friday he was thirty-three minutes late," continued the other.

"Friday," said the faithful captain. "Friday he stopped to listen to a
man playing the bagpipes--a Scotchman."

"That was Thursday," said Mrs. Chinnery.

The captain affected to ponder. "So it was," he said, heartily. "What a
memory you have got! Of course, Friday he walked back to the office for
his pipe."

"Well, we won't wait for him," said Mrs. Chinnery, taking the head of
the table and making the tea. "If he can't come in to time he must put
up with his tea being cold. That's the way we were brought up."

"A very good way, too," said the captain. He put a radish into his mouth
and, munching slowly, fell to gazing at Vesuvius again. It was not until
he had passed his cup up for the second time that a short, red-faced man
came quickly into the room and, taking a chair from its place against
the wall, brought it to the table and took a seat opposite the captain.

"Late again, Peter," said his sister.

"Been listening to a man playing the cornet," said Mr. Truefitt,
briefly.

Captain Trimblett, taking the largest radish he could find, pushed it
into his mouth and sat gazing at him in consternation. He had used up
two musical instruments in less than a week.

"You're getting fond of music in your old age," said Mrs. Chinnery,
tartly. "But you always are late nowadays. When it isn't music it's
something else. What's come over you lately I can't think."

Mr. Truefitt cleared his throat for speech, and then, thinking better of
it, helped himself to some bread and butter and went on with his meal.
His eyes met those of Captain Trimblett and then wandered away to the
window. The captain sprang into the breach.

"He wants a wife to keep him in order," he said, with a boldness that
took Mr. Truefitt's breath away.

"Wife!" exclai