could not; he is a curate."

"He must get a living, or a chaplaincy, or something; or rather, I
expect we must get it for him. Oh, no, we have no Church influence,
and we don't know any bishops; but one can always rake up influence,
and get to know people, if one is not too particular how."

Mr. Gillat looked at her uneasily; every now and then there flitted
through his mind a suspicion that Julia was clever too, as clever
perhaps as her mother, and though not, like her, a moral and social
pillar standing in the high first estate from which he and the Captain
had fallen. Julia had never been that, never aspired to it; she was no
success at all; content to come and sit in the dining-room with him
and Bouquet; she could not really be clever, or else she would have
achieved something for herself, and scorned to consort with failures.
He smiled benignly as he remembered this, observing, "I dare say
something will be done--I hope it may; your mother's a wonderful
woman, a wonderful--"

He broke off to listen; Julia listened too, then she rose to her feet.
"That's father," she said, and went to let him in.

Mr. Gillat followed her to the door. "Ah--h'm," he said, as he saw the
Captain coming in slowly, with a face of despairing melancholy and a
drooping step.

"Come down-stairs, father," Julia said. "Come along, Johnny."

They followed her meekly to the basement, where there was a gloomy
little room behind the kitchen reserved for the Captain's special use.