Polkington which followed; with Violet it was longer, but, no doubt,
equally satisfactory. Lunch, too, was all that could be desired. Mrs.
Polkington's manners were always gracious, and to-day she had a
charming air of taking Richard into the family--after having shut all
the doors, actual and metaphorical, which led to anything real and
personal. The Captain was rather twittery at lunch, at times inclined
to talk too much, at times heavily silent and always obviously
submissive to his wife. Yesterday's excitement was not enough to
account for this in Julia's opinion. "He has been doing something,"
she decided, and wondered what.

Mrs. Polkington and her daughters all went out that afternoon; Julia,
however, returned at about dusk. As the others had no intention of
coming back so soon, there was no drawing-room tea; a much simpler
meal was spread in the dining-room. Julia and her father had only just
sat down to it when they heard Johnny Gillat's knock at the front
door, followed a minute afterwards by Mr. Gillat himself; but when he
saw that the Captain was not alone, he stopped on the threshold;
Julia's presence, contrary to custom, seemed to discompose him. He,
then, was in her father's secret, whatever it might be; she guessed as
much when she saw his perturbed pink face. However, she did not say
anything, only invited Mr. Gillat to have some tea.

Johnny sat down, and put a small and rather badly tied parcel beside
him; next minute he picked it up again, and began surreptitiously to
put it into first one pocket and then another. It was rather a tight
fit, and in his efforts to do it unobtrusively, he made some
disturbance, but no one remarked on it; Captain Polkington because he
was too despondent, Julia because it did not seem worth while.
Conversation languished; Julia did what she could, but her father