one?” asked Mrs. Banks, shortly.
“The bad ‘un,” said the captain.
“They’re both bad,” said Mrs. Banks more shortly than before, as she noticed that Mrs. Church had got real lace in her cuffs and was pouring out the tea in full consciousness of the fact.
“Dear, dear,” said the Captain sympathetically.
“Swollen?” enquired Mrs. Church, anxiously.
“Swelled right out of shape,” exclaimed Captain Barber, impressively; “like pillars almost they are.”
“Poor thing,” said Mrs. Church, in a voice which made Mrs. Banks itch to slap her. “I knew a lady once just the same, but she was a drinking woman.”
Again Mrs. Banks at a loss for words, looked at her daughter for assistance.
“Dear me, how dreadful it must be to know such people,” said Mrs. Banks, shivering.
“Yes,” sighed the other. “It used to make me feel sorry for her—they were utterly shapeless, you know. Horrid!”
“That’s how Mrs. Banks’ are,” said the Captain, nodding sagely. “You look ‘ot, Mrs. Banks. Shall I open the winder a bit?”
“I’ll thank you not to talk about me like that, Captain Barber,” said Mrs. Banks, the flowers on her hat trembling.
“As you please, ma’am,” said Captain Barber, with a stateliness which deserved a better subject. “I was only repeating what Dr. Hodder told me in your presence.”
Mrs. Banks made no reply, but created a diversion by passing her cup up for more tea; her feelings, when Mrs. Church took off the lid of the teapot and poured in about a pint of water before helping her, belonging to that kind known as in-describable.
“Water bewitched, and tea begrudged,” she said, trying to speak jocularly.
“Well, the fourth cup never is very good, is it,” said Mrs. Church, apologetically. “I’ll put some more tea in, so that your next cup’ll be better.”
As a matter of fact it was Mrs. Banks’ third cup, and she said so, Mrs. Church receiving the correction with a polite smile, more than tinged with incredulity.
“It’s wonderful what a lot of tea is drunk,” said Captain Barber, impressively, looking round the table.
“I’ve heard say it’s like spirit drinking,” said Mrs. Church; “they say it gets such a hold of people that they can’t give it up. They’re just slaves to it, and they like it brown and strong like brandy.”
Mrs. Banks, who had been making noble efforts, could contain herself no longer. She put down the harmless beverage which had just been handed to her, and pushed her chair back from the table.
“Are you speaking of me, young woman?” she asked, tremulous with indignation.
“Oh, no, certainly not,” said Mrs. Church, in great distress. “I never thought of such a thing. I was alluding to the people Captain Barber was talking of—regular tea-drinkers, you know.”
“I know what you mean, ma’am,” said Mrs. Banks fiercely.
“There, there,” said Captain Barber, ill-advisedly.
“Don’t you say ‘there, there,’ to me, Captain Barber, because I won’t have it,” said the old lady, speaking with great rapidity; “if you think that I’m going to sit here and be insulted by—by that woman, you’re mistaken.”
“You’re quite mistook, Mrs. Banks,” said the Captain, slowly. “I’ve heard everything she said, and, where the insult comes in, I’m sure I don’t know. I don’t think I’m wanting in common sense, ma’am.”
He patted the housekeeper’s hand kindly, and, in full view of the indignant Mrs. Banks, she squeezed his in return and gazed at him affectionately. There is nothing humourous to the ordinary person in a teacup, but Mrs. Banks, looking straight into hers, broke into a short, derisive laugh.
“Anything the matter, ma’am?” enquired Captain Barber, regarding her somewhat severely.
Mrs. Banks shook her head. “Only thoughts,” she said, mysteriously.
It is difficult for a man to object to his visitors finding amusement in their thoughts, or even to enquire too closely into the nature of them. Mrs. Banks, apparently realising this, laughed again with increased acridity, and finally became so very amused that she shook in her chair.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself, ma’am,” said Captain Barber, loftily.
With a view, perhaps, of giving his guest further amusement he patted the housekeeper’s hand again, whereupon Mrs. Banks’ laughter ceased, and she sat regarding Mrs. Church with a petrified stare, met by that lady with a glance of haughty disdain.
“S’pose we go into the garden a bit?” suggested Barber, uneasily. The two ladies had eyed each other for three minutes without blinking, and his own eyes were watering in sympathy.
Mrs. Banks, secretly glad of the interruption, made one or two vague remarks about going home, but after much persuasion, allowed him to lead her into the garden, the solemn Elizabeth bringing up in the rear with a hassock and a couple of cushions.
“It’s a new thing for you having a housekeeper,” observed Mrs. Banks, after her daughter had returned to the house to assist in washing up.
“Yes, I wonder I never thought of it before,” said the artful Barber; “you wouldn’t believe how comfortable it is.”
“I daresay,” said Mrs. Banks, grimly.
“It’s nice to have a woman about the house,” continued Captain Barber, slowly, “it makes it more homelike. A slip of a servant-gal ain’t no good at all.”
“How does Fred like it?” enquired Mrs. Banks.
“My ideas are Fred’s ideas,” said Uncle Barber, somewhat sharply. “What I like he has to like, naturally.”
“I was thinking of my darter,” said Mrs. Banks, smoothing down her apron majestically. “The arrangement was, I think, that when they were, married they was to live with you?”
Captain Barber nodded acquiescence.
“Elizabeth would never live in a house with that woman, or any other woman, as housekeeper in it,” said the mother.
“Well, she won’t have to,” said the old man; “when they marry and Elizabeth comes here, I sha’n’t want a housekeeper—I shall get rid of her.”
Mrs. Banks shifted in her chair, and gazed thoughtfully down the garden. “Of course my idea was for them to wait till I was gone,” she said at length.
“Just so,” replied the other, “and more’s the pity.”
“But Elizabeth’s getting on and I don’t seem to go,” continued the old lady, as though mildly surprised at Providence for its unaccountable delay; “and there’s Fred, he ain’t getting younger.”
Captain Barber puffed at his pipe. “None of us are,” he said profoundly.
“And Fred might get tired of waiting,” said Mrs. Banks, ruminating.
“He’d better let me hear him,” said the uncle, fiercely; “leastways, o’ course, he’s tired o’ waiting in a sense. He’d like to be married.”
“There’s young Gibson,” said Mrs. Banks in a thrilling whisper.
“What about him?” enquired Barber, surprised at her manner.
“Comes round after Elizabeth,” said Mrs. Banks.
“No!” said Captain Barber, blankly.
Mrs. Banks pursed up her lips and nodded darkly.
“Pretends to come and see me,” said Mrs. Banks; “always coming in bringing something new for my legs. The worst of it