his nose in a great red bandanna handkerchief, "and it's the man's
stupidity that's the cause of this, and the storm's my storm as well as
his"... so Mrs. Jarvis would bethink her when the Captain dropped in to
see them and found Herbert out, and spent two or three hours, almost
silent, sitting in the arm-chair. But Betty Flanders thought nothing of
the kind.

"Oh, Captain," said Mrs. Flanders, bursting into the drawing-room, "I
had to run after Barker's man... I hope Rebecca... I hope Jacob..."

She was very much out of breath, yet not at all upset, and as she put
down the hearth-brush which she had bought of the oil-man, she said it
was hot, flung the window further open, straightened a cover, picked up
a book, as if she were very confident, very fond of the Captain, and a
great many years younger than he was. Indeed, in her blue apron she did
not look more than thirty-five. He was well over fifty.

She moved her hands about the table; the Captain moved his head from
side to side, and made little sounds, as Betty went on chattering,
completely at his ease--after twenty years.

"Well," he said at length, "I've heard from Mr. Polegate."

He had heard from Mr. Polegate that he could advise nothing better than
to send a boy to one of the universities.

"Mr. Floyd was at Cambridge... no, at Oxford... well, at one or the
other," said Mrs. Flanders.

She looked out of the window. Little windows, and the lilac and green of