er arrangements."

"Very likely," said his daughter abruptly, "or perhaps he will marry
Mrs. Chinnery."

Mr. Hartley, who was at supper, put down his knife and fork and sat
eying her in very natural amazement. "Marry Mrs. Chinnery?" he gasped,
"but how can he?"

"I mean," said Joan with a sudden remembrance of the state of affairs,
"I mean if anything should happen to me."

Mr. Hartley finished his supper and drawing his chair up to the fire sat
smoking in thoughtful silence.

"And if anything happens to Trimblett perhaps you will marry again," he
said at last.

Miss Hartley shook her head. "I am not afraid," she said ambiguously.

Her confidence was put to the test less than a fortnight later by an
unexpected visit from Mr. Robert Vyner, who, entering the room in a
somewhat breathless condition, accepted a chair and sat gazing at her
with an air of mysterious triumph.

"I'm the bearer of important news," he announced. "Dispatches from the
front. You'll hear all about it from your father when he comes home, but
I wanted to be the first with it."

"What is the matter?" inquired Joan.

Mr. Vyner looked shocked. "All important news, good or bad, should be
broken gently," he said reproachfully. "Do you know any Scotch?"

"Scotch!" said the mystified Miss Hartley.

Mr. Vyner nodded. "The best laid schemes o' mice and men gang oft
agley," he quoted in a thrilling voice. "Do you understand that?"

"I'll wait till father comes home," announced Miss Hartley, with some
decision.

"There are other quotations bearing on the matter in hand," said
Mr. Vyner, thoughtfully, "but I have forgotten them. At present I am
thinking of you to the utter exclusion of everything else. Not that that
is anything unusual. Far from it. To cut a long story short, Captain
Trimblett has been left behind at San Francisco with malaria, and the
mate has taken the ship on."

Miss Hartley gave a little cry of concern.

"He has had it before," said Mr. Vyner composedly, "but he seems to have
got it bad this time, and when he is fit enough, he is coming home. Now
what are you going to do?"

"Poor Captain Trimblett," said Joan. "I am so sorry."

"What are you going to do?" repeated Mr. Vyner, impressively. "His
children are at Salthaven, and he will live here because my father and
I had practically decided to give him the berth of ship's husband after
this voyage. He will have it a little sooner, that's all. Appropriate
berth for a marr