Salthaven | Page 5

said Robert, shaking his head.
"People ought to marry while they're young," said the captain. "If they don't, like as not they're crazy to marry in their old age. There's my landlord here at Tranquil Vale, fifty-two next birthday, and over his ears in love. He has got it about as bad as a man can have it."
"And the lady?" inquired Robert.
"She's all right," said the captain. He lowered his voice confidentially. "It's Peter's sister, that's the trouble. He's afraid to let her know. All we can do is to drop a little hint here and a little hint there, so as to prepare her for the news when it's broken to her."
"Is she married?" inquired Robert, pausing as they reached the office.
"No," said Captain Trimblett; "widow."
Mr. Vyner gave a low whistle. "When do you sail, cap'n?" he inquired, in a voice oily with solicitude.
"Soon as my engine-room repairs are finished, I suppose," said the other, staring.
"And you--you are giving her hints about courtship and marriage?" inquired Mr. Vyner, in tones of carefully-modulated surprise.
"She's a sensible woman," said the captain, reddening, "and she's no more likely to marry again than I am."
"Just what I was thinking," said Mr. Vyner.
He shook his head, and, apparently deep in thought, turned and walked slowly up the stairs. He was pleased to notice as he reached the first landing that the captain was still standing where he had left him, staring up the stairs.
CHAPTER III
IN a somewhat ruffled state of mind Captain Trimblett pursued his way toward Tranquil Vale, a. row of neat cottages situated about a mile and a half from the town, and inhabited principally by retired mariners. The gardens, which ran down to the river, boasted a particularly fine strain of flag-staffs; battered figure-heads in swan-like attitudes lent a pleasing touch of colour, and old boats sawn in halves made convenient arbours in which to sit and watch the passing pageant of the sea.
At No. 5 the captain paused to pass a perfectly dry boot over a scraper of huge dimensions which guarded the entrance, and, opening the door, finished off on the mat. Mrs. Susanna Chinnery, who was setting tea, looked up at his entrance, and then looked at the clock.
"Kettle's just on the boil," she remarked.
"Your kettle always is," said the captain, taking a chair--"when it's time for it to be, I mean," he added, hastily, as Mrs. Chinnery showed signs of correcting him.
"It's as easy to be punctual as otherwise," said Mrs. Chinnery; "easier, if people did but know it."
"So it is," murmured the captain, and sat gazing, with a sudden wooden expression, at a picture opposite of the eruption of Vesuvius.
"Peter's late again," said Mrs. Chinnery, in tones of hopeless resignation.
"Business, perhaps," suggested Captain Trimblett, still intent on Vesuvius.
"For years and years you could have set the clock by him," continued Mrs. Chinnery, bustling out to the kitchen and bustling back again with the kettle; "now I never know when to expect him. He was late yesterday."
Captain Trimblett cleared his throat. "He saw a man nearly run over," he reminded her.
"Yes; but how long would that take him?" retorted Mrs. Chinnery. "If the man had been run over I could have understood it."
The captain murmured something about shock.
"On Friday he was thirty-three minutes late," continued the other.
"Friday," said the faithful captain. "Friday he stopped to listen to a man playing the bagpipes--a Scotchman."
"That was Thursday," said Mrs. Chinnery.
The captain affected to ponder. "So it was," he said, heartily. "What a memory you have got! Of course, Friday he walked back to the office for his pipe."
"Well, we won't wait for him," said Mrs. Chinnery, taking the head of the table and making the tea. "If he can't come in to time he must put up with his tea being cold. That's the way we were brought up."
"A very good way, too," said the captain. He put a radish into his mouth and, munching slowly, fell to gazing at Vesuvius again. It was not until he had passed his cup up for the second time that a short, red-faced man came quickly into the room and, taking a chair from its place against the wall, brought it to the table and took a seat opposite the captain.
"Late again, Peter," said his sister.
"Been listening to a man playing the cornet," said Mr. Truefitt, briefly.
Captain Trimblett, taking the largest radish he could find, pushed it into his mouth and sat gazing at him in consternation. He had used up two musical instruments in less than a week.
"You're getting fond of music in your old age," said Mrs. Chinnery, tartly. "But you always are late nowadays. When it isn't music it's something else. What's come over you lately I can't think."
Mr. Truefitt cleared his throat for speech, and then, thinking better of