"Elsie!" bawled the sergeant. "Where's the key of my cupboard? I want
my other boots."

"They're down here," cried the voice of Miss Pilbeam, and the skipper,
hardly able to believe in his good fortune, heard the sergeant go
downstairs again.

At the expiration of another week--by his own reckoning--he heard the
light, hurried footsteps of Miss Pilbeam come up the stairs and pause at
the door.

"H'st!" he said, recklessly.

"I'm coming," said the girl. "Don't be impatient."

A key turned in the lock, the door was flung open, and the skipper, dazed
and blinking with the sudden light, stumbled into the room.

"Father's gone," said Miss Pilbeam.

The skipper made no answer. He was administering first aid to a right
leg which had temporarily forgotten how to perform its duties, varied
with slaps and pinches at a left which had gone to sleep. At intervals
he turned a red-rimmed and reproachful eye on Miss Pilbeam.

[Illustration: "He was administering first aid to a right leg."]

"You want a wash and some breakfast," she said, softly, "especially a
wash. There's water and a towel, and while you're making yourself tidy