might have been chance, it might
have been design, but the boy could not help noticing that when the
piano, the wardrobe, and other fine pieces were being placed in the van,
she was at the other end of the road a position from which such curios as
a broken washstand or a two-legged chair never failed to entice her.

It was over at last. The second van had disappeared, and nothing was
left but a litter of straw and paper. The front door stood open and
revealed desolation. Miss Nugent came to the gate and stared in
superciliously.

"I'm glad you're going," she said, frankly.

Master Hardy scarcely noticed her. One of his friends who concealed
strong business instincts beneath a sentimental exterior had suggested
souvenirs and given him a spectacle-glass said to have belonged to Henry
VIII., and he was busy searching his pockets for an adequate return.
Then Captain Hardy came up, and first going over the empty house, came
out and bade his son accompany him to the station. A minute or two later
and they were out of sight; the sentimentalist stood on the curb gloating
over a newly acquired penknife, and Miss Nugent, after being strongly
reproved by him for curiosity, paced slowly home with her head in the
air.

Sunwich made no stir over the departure of one of its youthful citizens.
Indeed, it lacked not those who would have cheerfully parted with two or
three hundred more. The boy was quite chilled by the tameness of his
exit, and for years afterwards the desolate appearance of the platform as
the train steamed out occurred to him with an odd sense of discomfort.
In all Sunwich there was only one person who grieved over his departure,
and he, after keeping his memory green for two years, wrote off fivepence
as a bad debt and dismissed him from his thoughts.

Two months after the _Conqueror_ had sailed again Captain Nugent obtained
command of a steamer sailing between London and the Chinese ports. From
the gratified lips of Mr. Wilks, Sunwich heard of this new craft, the
particular glory of which appeared to be the luxurious appointments of
the steward's quarters. Language indeed failed Mr. Wilks in describing
it, and, pressed for details, he could only murmur disjointedly of
satin-wood, polished brass, and crimson velvet.

Jack Nugent hailed his father's departure with joy. They had seen a
great deal of each other during the latter's prolonged stay ashore, and
neither had risen in the other's estimation in co