g much," replied Charles, standing with his hand on the door-knob,
"but I wouldn't believe it of you; I said I couldn't."

"Wot--was--it?" insisted Mr. Kybird.

"Why, they said you once gave a man a fair price for a pair of trousers,"
said the barman, indignantly.

He closed the door behind him softly, and Mr. Kybird, after a brief
pause, opened it again and, more softly still, quitted the precincts of
The Goblets, and stepped across the road to his emporium.

[Illustration: "He stepped across the road to his emporium."]

Captain Nugent, in happy ignorance of the dark designs of the wardrobe
dealer, had also gone home. He was only just beginning to realize the
comparative unimportance of a retired shipmaster, and the knowledge was
a source of considerable annoyance to him. No deferential mates listened
respectfully to his instructions, no sturdy seaman ran to execute his
commands or trembled mutinously at his wrath. The only person in the
wide world who stood in awe of him was the general servant Bella, and she
made no attempt to conceal her satisfaction at the attention excited by
her shortcomings.

He paused a moment at the gate and then, walking slowly up to the door,
gave it the knock of a master. A full minute passing, he knocked again,
remembering with some misgivings his stern instructions of the day before
that the door was to be attended by the servant and by nobody else. He
had seen Miss Nugent sitting at the window as he passed it, but in the
circumstances the fact gave him no comfort. A third knock was followed
by a fourth, and then a distressed voice upstairs was heard calling
wildly upon the name of Bella.

At the fifth knock the house shook, and a red-faced maid with her
shoulders veiled in a large damp towel passed hastily down the staircase
and, slipping the catch, passed more hastily still upstairs again,
affording the indignant captain a glimpse of a short striped skirt as it
turned the landing.

"Is there any management at all in this house?" he inquired, as he
entered the room.

"Bella was dressing," said Miss Nugent, calmly, "and you gave orders
yesterday that nobody else was to open the door."

"Nobody else when she's available," qualified her father, eyeing her
sharply. "When I give orders I expect people to use their common sense.
Why isn't my tea ready? It's five o'clock."

"The clock's twenty minutes fast," said Kate. "Who's been meddling with
it?" demanded her father, ve