"Have you come home for good? inquired Miss Kybird, curiously. Have you
seen your father? He passed here a little while ago."
"I saw him," said Jack, with a brevity which was not lost upon the astute
Mr. Kybird. "I may stay in Sunwich, and I may not--it all depends."
"You're not going 'ome?" said Mr. Kybird.
"No."
The shopkeeper stood considering. He had a small room to let at the top
of his house, and he stood divided between the fear of not getting his
rent and the joy to a man fond of simple pleasures, to be obtained by
dunning the arrogant Captain Nugent for his son's debts. Before he could
arrive at a decision his meditations were interrupted by the entrance of
a stout, sandy-haired lady from the back parlour, who, having conquered
his scruples against matrimony some thirty years before, had kept a
particularly wide-awake eye upon him ever since.
"Your tea's a-gettin' cold," she remarked, severely.
Her husband received the news with calmness. He was by no means an
enthusiast where that liquid was concerned, the admiration evoked by its
non-inebriating qualities having been always something in the nature of a
mystery to him.
"I'm coming," he retorted; "I'm just 'aving a word with Mr. Nugent 'ere."
"Well, I never did," said the stout lady, coming farther into the shop
and regarding the visitor.
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