her father's wrongs.

"What's he doing it here for?" demanded the astonished skipper.

"Because he lives here."

"Lodger?" queried the skipper, more astonished than before.

"Father," said Miss Pilbeam.

A horrified groan from the cupboard fell like music on her ears. Then
the smile forsook her lips, and she stood quivering with indignation as
the groan gave way to suppressed but unmistakable laughter.

"H'sh!" she said sharply, and with head erect sailed out of the room and
went downstairs to give Mr. Pilbeam his breakfast.

To the skipper in the confined space and darkness of the cupboard the
breakfast seemed unending. The sergeant evidently believed in sitting
over his meals, and his deep, rumbling voice, punctuated by good-natured
laughter, was plainly audible. To pass the time the skipper fell to
counting, and, tired of that, recited some verses that he had acquired at
school. After that, and with far more heartiness, he declaimed a few
things that he had learned since; and still the clatter and rumble
sounded from below.

It was a relief to him when he heard the sergeant push his chair back and
move heavily about the room. A minute later he heard him ascending the
stairs, and then he held his breath with horror as the foot-steps entered
the room and a heavy hand was laid on the cupboard door.