emonial duty. Georgiana was quite
nervous as she went to the door.

The caller was Emanuel Prockter.

"Mother thought I might perhaps be able to help you," said he, in the
slightly simpering tone which he adopted in delicate situations, and
which he thought suited him. What made the situation delicate, to him,
was Helen's apron--quite agreeable though the apron was. He felt, with
his unerring perceptiveness, that young ladies do not care to receive
young gentlemen in the apron of a Georgiana. His own attire was, as
usual, fabulously correct; the salient features of it being a pair of
light yellow chamois gloves, loose-fitting and unbuttoned, with the
gauntlets negligently turned back. These gloves were his method of
expressing the fact that the visit was a visit of usefulness and not a
kid-glove visit. But Helen seemed quite composed behind Georgiana's
apron.

"Yes," he repeated, with smiling inanity, after he had shaken hands.
"Mother thought I might help you."

("What a fool that woman is!" reflected James. "And what a fool _he_ is
to put it on to his mother instead of keeping it to himself!")

"And what did _you_ think, Mr. Prockter?" Helen demanded. "Another cup
and saucer, Georgiana."

Helen's question was one of her insolent questions.

("Perhaps his mother ain't such a fool!" reflected James. And he
perceived, or imagined he perceived, that their fears of Helen marrying
Emanuel were absurd.)

Emanuel sniffed humour in the air. He never understood humour; but he
was, at any rate, sufficiently gifted with the wisdom of the simple to
smile vaguely and amiably when he sniffed humour.

And then Helen said, with cordial kindliness: "It's awfully good of
you--awfully good of you. Here we are, you see!"

And the degree of cordiality was such that the fear of her marrying
Emanuel suddenly seemed less absurd to James. The truth was that James
never had a moment's peace of mind with Helen. She was continually
proving that as a student in the University of Human Nature he had not
even matriculated.

Georgiana appeared with an odd cup and saucer, and a giggling statement
that she had not been able to discover any more teaspoons.

"Never mind," said Helen. "Mr. Prockter shall have mine."

("Well, I'm hanged!" reflected James.)

Whereupon Georgiana departed, bearing her own tea, into the giant's
kitchen. The miserable distinctions of class had been mysteriously
established.

CHAPTER XXI

SHIP AND OCE