“Who are you talking about?” inquired the captain.
“Why, James Hardy,” replied his sister. “I thought you said you had heard. He's coming back to Sunwich and going into partnership with old Swann, the shipbroker. A very good thing for him, I should think.”
“I'm not interested in the doings of the Hardys,” said the captain, gruffly.
“I'm sure I'm not,” said his sister, defensively.
Captain Nugent proceeded with his meal in silence. His hatred of Hardy had not been lessened by the success which had attended that gentleman's career, and was not likely to be improved by the well-being of Hardy junior. He passed his cup for some more tea, and, with a furtive glance at the photograph on the mantelpiece, wondered what had happened to his own son.
“I don't suppose I should know him if I saw him,” continued Mrs. Kingdom, addressing a respectable old arm-chair; “London is sure to have changed him.”
“Is this water-cress?” inquired the captain, looking up from his plate.
“Yes. Why?” said Mrs. Kingdom.
“I only wanted information,” said her brother, as he deposited the salad in question in the slop-basin.
Mrs. Kingdom, with a resigned expression, tried to catch her niece's eye and caught the captain's instead. Miss Nugent happening to glance up saw her fascinated by the basilisk glare of the master of the house.