he quiet and without any
fuss. But it isn't coming off. No, sir. Now, suppose it was you--don't
be violent; I only said suppose--how would that pickle-jar strike you?"

"I know nothing about it," said Captain Trimblett, raising his voice.
"Besides, I can't take the responsibility of choosing for another man. I
told you so before."

Captain Walsh paid no heed. His glance roved over the contents of the
window.

"Trimblett's a terror," he said in a serene voice, turning to Hartley.
"I don't know what it's like walking down the High Street looking into
shop-windows with a fretful porcupine; but I can make a pretty good
guess."

"You should leave me alone, then," said Trimblett, wrenching his arm
free. "Wedding-presents have no interest for me."

"That's what he keeps saying," said Walsh, turning to Hartley again;
"and when I referred just now--in the most delicate manner--to love's
young dream, I thought he'd ha' bust his boilers."

As far as Hartley could see, Captain Trimblett was again within
measurable distance of such a catastrophe. For a moment he struggled
wildly for speech, and then, coming to the conclusion that nothing he
could say would do him any good, he swung on his heel and walked off.
Hartley, with a nod to Walsh, followed.

"That idiot has been pestering me for the last half-hour," said Captain
Trimblett, after walking for some distance in wrathful silence. "I
wonder whether it would be brought in murder if I wrung old Sellers's
neck? I've had four people this morning come up and talk to me about
getting married. At least, they started talking."

"Turn a deaf ear," said Hartley.

"Deaf ear?" repeated the captain. "I wish I could. The last few days
I've been wishing that I hadn't got ears. It's all Truefitt's doing.
He's hinting now that I'm too bashful to speak up, and that weak-headed
Cecilia Willett believes him. If you could only see her fussing round
and trying to make things easy for me, as she considers, you'd wonder I
don't go crazy."

"We've all got our troubles," said Hartley, shaking his head.

The indignant-captain turned and regarded him fiercely.

"I am likely to leave Vyner and Son," said the other, slowly, "after
thirty-five years."

The wrath died out of the captain's face, and he regarded his old friend
with looks of affectionate concern. In grim silence he listened to an
account of the interview with Mr. Vyner.

"You know what it all means," he said, savagely, as Hartley