"They'll soon get tired of it," said Hardy.
Mr. Wilks, still gloomy, ventured to doubt it, but cheered up and became almost bright when his visitor announced his intention of trying to smooth over matters for him at Equator Lodge. He became quite voluble in his defence, and attached much importance to the fact that he had nursed Miss Nugent when she was in long clothes and had taught her to whistle like an angel at the age of five.
"I've felt being cut adrift by her more than anything," he said, brokenly. "Nine-an'-twenty years I sailed with the cap'n and served 'im faithful, and this is my reward."
Hardy pleaded his case next day. Miss Nugent was alone when he called, and, moved by the vivid picture he drew of the old man's loneliness, accorded her full forgiveness, and decided to pay him a visit at once. The fact that Hardy had not been in the house five minutes she appeared to have overlooked.
"I'll go upstairs and put my hat and jacket on and go now," she said, brightly.
"That's very kind of you," said Hardy. His voice expressed admiring gratitude; but he made no sign of leaving his seat.
"You don't mind?" said Miss Nugent, pausing in front of him and slightly extending her hand.
"Not in the least," was the reply; "but I want to see Wilks myself. Perhaps you'll let me walk down with you?"