ght and wrong, of truth
and falsehood, are much more important. I'm sure you agree with me in
that."

"I wish to goodness you had some sense of right and wrong yourself."

"I have," said Meldon, "If I hadn't I should simply enjoy myself during
this holiday, as I'm quite entitled to do. Instead of which I mean to
devote my time to the troublesome task of marrying Simpkins, whom I
don't know at all, to a lady whom I have only seen once. If I hadn't a
remarkably pushing sort of a conscience I wouldn't sacrifice myself in
that way."

"She won't marry Simpkins," said the Major.

"Oh yes, she will. I don't anticipate any difficulty about that part
of the programme."

"Wait till you've seen Simpkins. Wait till you've talked to him. No
woman would marry Simpkins."

"Miss King will," said Meldon. "She wants a man on whom to practise
her art, and she'll be all the better pleased if he's a particularly
undesirable kind of beast. She won't find herself regretting him
afterwards. Now that we have that settled, Major, I think I'll dodge
off to bed. I don't mind confessing to you that I'm just as glad that
I shan't have the baby in her little cot beside me. I'm extremely fond
of the child, but she's a little trying at night; the fits of coughing
come on at such frequent intervals."

CHAPTER IV.

Major Kent, like most men who lead an open-air life, had a healthy
appetite at breakfast-time. His table was always well supplied with
eggs, bacon, and, when possible, fish. In honour of Meldon's visit, he
had a cold ham on the sideboard, and a large dish of oatmeal porridge.
He was a man of primitive hospitality, and he surveyed the feast with
an air of proud satisfaction while he waited for his guest. He had to
wait for a quarter of an hour, and his glow of pleasure was beginning
to give way to a feeling of irritation when Meldon burst into the room.

"This place," he said, by way of apology for his unpunctuality, "is
certainly the sleepiest in the world. I had forgotten how sleepy it
is. I didn't so much as turn round in bed for nine solid hours, and I
assure you I never felt less inclined to get up in my life. I daresay
I'll get over it in a day or two; but just at present I feel that the
night wasn't long enough."

"Have some breakfast," said the Major, "and then you can go to sleep
again."

Meldon helped himself to porridge and milk.

"No, I can't," he said. "I've too much to do."

He worked thro