"Thought you were never coming," said Miss Kybird, tartly, as she led the
way to the back room and took her seat at the untidy tea-tray.

"And you've been crying your eyes out, I suppose," remarked Mr. Nugent,
as he groped in the depths of a tall jar for black-currant jam. "Well,
you're not the first, and I don't suppose you'll be the last. How's
Teddy?"

"Get your tea," retorted Miss Kybird, "and don't make that scraping noise
on the bottom of the jar with your knife. It puts my teeth on edge."

"So it does mine," said Mr. Nugent, "but there's a black currant down
there, and I mean to have it. 'Waste not, want not.'"

"Make him put that knife down," said Miss Kybird, as her mother entered
the room. Mrs. Kybird shook her head at him. "You two are always
quarrelling," she said, archly, "just like a couple of--couple of----"

"Love-birds," suggested Mr. Nugent.

Mrs. Kybird in great glee squeezed round to him and smote him playfully
with her large, fat hand, and then, being somewhat out of breath with the
exertion, sat down to enjoy the jest in comfort.

"That's how you encourage him," said her daughter; "no wonder he doesn't
behave. No wonder he acts as if the whole place belongs to him."

The remark was certainly descriptive of Mr. Nugent's behaviour. His easy
assurance and affability had already made him a prime favourite with Mrs.
Kybird, and had not been without its effect upon her daughter. The