He led her over to her prospective employer and tapped the latter on the
chest.

"How d'ye do, sir?" said the housekeeper. "I don't know's I just caught
your name."

In five minutes or so the situation was made reasonably clear. Mrs.
Beasley then demanded her trunk and carpet bag. The grinning Lumley bore
them into the house. Then he drove away, still grinning. Bailey looked
fearfully at Captain Cy.

"She IS kind of hard of hearin', ain't she?" he said reluctantly. "You
remember I said she was."

The captain nodded.

"Yes," he answered, "you're a truth-tellin' chap, Bailey, I'll say that
for you. You don't exaggerate your statements."

"Hard of hearin'!" snapped Mr. Tidditt. "If the last trump ain't a steam
whistle she'll miss Judgment Day. I'll stop into Simmons's on my way
along and buy you a bottle of throat balsam, Cy; you're goin' to need
it."

The captain needed more than throat balsam during the fortnight which
followed. The widow Beasley's deafness was not her only failing. In fact
she was altogether a failure, so far as her housekeeping was concerned.
She could cook, after a fashion, but the fashion was so limited that
even the bill of fare at the perfect boarding house looked tempting in
retrospect.