"Proper hands! Proper hands!" repeated the Admiral to himself. "Evidently that means his own hands. Fine fellow! He deserves the girl, if only for the pains he has taken to keep her name from being used publicly. How I wish I might tell her the whole story! Still, if they continue to like each other, my time will come. I think that I ought now to be able to make my peace with Mrs. Highwood. I need merely to repeat to her Jermyn's own words, and crave the privilege of age to laugh with her over a matter entirely to her credit."
Within five minutes the Admiral had dispatched a note to Trif, who languidly opened it and then suddenly dropped her languor and called Fenie, to whom she said:
"What can the man mean? There can be but one letter that the man refers to—the one which Trixy gave him, and which she got back so strangely, and I sent on to Phil, promising that I would tell him something about it when I reached home. Phil don't know the Admiral, so I can't make sense out of the matter. It isn't possible that Trixy is making any more trouble with letters?"
"Don't be silly!" replied Fenie. "What did the poor child know about the matter?"
"Oh, I'm afraid she overheard us wondering whether the letter ought not go back to the Admiral, because whoever sent it back to him would be sure to ask whether he received it, and—Trixy, where are you? Have you opened any of my letters?"
"No, mamma; really and truly I haven't," was the indignant reply.
"Oh," said Trif, "I do wish I could find out what it means. If I don't know pretty soon I'm sure I shall go insane."
Fenie made haste to be sisterly and soothing, and Trixy improved the opportunity to escape from the room. She hurried down to the piazza, asked every one she knew whether they had seen the Admiral, and finally she found him talking with Kate and Harry. She did not wait for a lull in the conversation; she stopped before him and interrupted with——
"Say, you don't want my dear mamma to go insane, do you?"