on. A choice portion of his
programme, which, owing to the events of the afternoon, he had almost
resolved to omit, clamoured for production. He stole another glance at
his niece and resolved to risk it.

"Hah!" he said, suddenly, stopping short and feeling in his pockets.
"There's my memory again. Well, of all the--"

"What's the matter, uncle?" inquired Miss Drewitt.

"I've left my pipe at home," said the captain, in a desperate voice.

"I've got some cigars," suggested Tredgold.

The captain shook his head. "No, I must have my pipe," he said,
decidedly. "If you two will walk on slowly, I'll soon catch you up."

"You're not going all the way back for it?" exclaimed Miss Drewitt.

"Let me go," said Tredgold.

The captain favoured him with an inscrutable glance. "I'll go," he said,
firmly. "I'm not quite sure where I left it. You go by Hanger's Lane;
I'll soon catch you up."

He set off at a pace which rendered protest unavailing. Mr. Tredgold
turned, and, making a mental note of the fact that Miss Drewitt had
suddenly added inches to her stature, walked on by her side.

"Captain Bowers is very fond of his pipe," he said, after they had walked
a little way in silence.

Miss Drewitt assented. "Nasty things," she said, calmly.

"So they are," said Mr. Tredgold.

"But you smoke," said the girl.

Mr. Tredgold sighed. "I have often thought of giving it up," he said,
softly, "and then I was afraid that it would look rather presumptuous."

"Presumptuous?" repeated Miss Drewitt.

"So many better and wiser men than myself smoke," exclaimed Mr.
Tredgold, "including even bishops. If it is good enough for them, it
ought to be good enough for me; that's the way I look at it. Who am I
that I should be too proud to smoke? Who am I that I should try and set
my poor ideas above those of my superiors? Do you see my point of view?"

Miss Drewitt made no reply.

"Of course, it is a thing that grows on one," continued Mr. Tredgold,
with the air of making a concession. "It is the first smoke that does
the mischief; it is a fatal precedent. Unless, perhaps--How pretty that
field is over there."

Miss Drewitt looked in the direction indicated. "Very nice," she said,
briefly. "But what were you going to say?"

Mr. Tredgold made an elaborate attempt to appear confused. "I was going
to say," he murmured, gently, "unless, perhaps, one begins on coarse-cut
Cavendish rolled in a piece of the margin of the