"I've thought of that. There's a boat that docks to-morrow—the Caronia, I think. I've got a paper upstairs. I'll look it up. I can say I came by her."
"That seems all right. It's lucky you and uncle Peter never met on the Atlantic."
"And now as to my demeanour on entering the home? How should I behave? Should I be jaunty or humble? What would a long-lost nephew naturally do?"
"A long-lost nephew with a record like Jimmy Crocker's would crawl in with a white flag, I should think."
A bell clanged in the hall.
"Supper!" said Jimmy. "To go into painful details, New England boiled dinner, or my senses deceive me, and prunes."
"I must be going."
"We shall meet at Philippi."
He saw her to the door, and stood at the top of the steps watching her trim figure vanish into the dusk. She passed from his sight. Jimmy drew a deep breath, and, thinking hard, went down the passage to fortify himself with supper.