Loftus, let us take you to your room."

That night the choicely served repast was less meagre than usual. Caller
herring graced the board in abundance, and even Loftus did not despise
these, when really fresh and cooked to perfection. The hash of New
Zealand mutton, however, which followed, was not so much to this
fastidious young officer's taste, but quantities of fine strawberries,
supplemented by a jug of rich cream, put him once more into a good
humor. He did not know that Kate had spent one of her very scarce
sixpences on the cream, and that the girls had walked a mile-and-a-half
through the hot sun that morning to fetch it.

The decanters of wine did not only do duty as ornaments that evening,
and as the black coffee which followed was quite to Loftus' taste, he
forgot the New Zealand mutton, or, at least, determined not to speak on
the subject before the next morning.

After Mabel went to bed that night Kate asked her brother what the fresh
scrape was about. He was really in an excellent humor then; the
seclusion and almost romance of the old place soothed his nerves, which
were somewhat jaded with the rush and tear of a life not lived too
worthily. He and Kitty were strolling up and down in the moonlight, and
when she asked her question and looked up at him with her fine,
intelligent, sympathetic face, he pulled her little ear affectionately,
and pushed back the tendrils of soft, dark hair from her brow.

"The usual thing, Kitty," he responded. "I'm in the usual sort of
scrape."

"Money?" asked Catherine.