Odd Craft, Complete

She followed him to the door; he made an ineffectual attempt to seize her hand, and the next moment was pushed gently outside and the door closed behind him. He stood a moment gazing at the house, and then hastened back to his ship.

“Seven to-morrow,” he murmured; “seven to-morrow. After all, there’s nothing pays in this world like cheek—nothing.”

He slept soundly that night, though the things that the second-engineer said to him about wasting a hard-working man’s evening would have lain heavy on the conscience of a more scrupulous man. The only thing that troubled him was the manifest intention of his friend not to let him slip through his fingers on the following evening. At last, in sheer despair at his inability to shake him off, he had to tell him that he had an appointment with a lady.

“Well, I’ll come, too,” said the other, glowering at him. “It’s very like she’ll have a friend with her; they generally do.”

“I’ll run round and tell her,” said Catesby. “I’d have arranged it before, only I thought you didn’t care about that sort of thing.”

“Female society is softening,” said the second-engineer. “I’ll go and put on a clean collar.”

Catesby watched him into his cabin and then, though it still wanted an hour to seven, hastily quitted the ship and secreted himself in the private bar of the Beehive.

He waited there until a quarter past seven, and then, adjusting his tie for about the tenth time that evening in the glass behind the bar, sallied out in the direction of No. 5.

He knocked lightly, and waited. There was no response, and he knocked again. When the fourth knock brought no response, his heart sank within him and he indulged in vain speculations as to the reasons for this unexpected hitch in the programme. He knocked again, and then the door opened suddenly and Prudence, with a little cry of surprise and dismay, backed into the passage.

“You!” she said, regarding him with large eyes. Mr. Catesby bowed tenderly, and passing in closed the door behind him.

“I wanted to thank you for your kindness last night,” he said, humbly.

“Very well,” said Prudence; “good-bye.”

Mr. Catesby smiled. “It’ll take me a long time to thank you as I ought to thank you,” he murmured. “And then I want to apologise; that’ll take time, too.”

“You had better go,” said Prudence, severely; “kindness is thrown away upon you. I ought to have let you be punished.”

“You are too good and kind,” said the other, drifting by easy stages into the parlour.

Miss Truefitt made no reply, but following him into the room seated herself in an easy-chair and sat coldly watchful.

“How do you know what I am?” she inquired.

“Your face tells me,” said the infatuated Richard. “I hope you will forgive me for my rudeness last night. It was all done on the spur of the moment.”

“I am glad you are sorry,” said the girl, softening.

“All the same, if I hadn’t done it,” pursued Mr. Catesby, “I shouldn’t be sitting here talking to you now.”

Miss Truefitt raised her eyes to his, and then lowered them modestly to the ground. “That is true,” she said, quietly.

“And I would sooner be sitting here than any-where,” pursued Catesby. “That is,” he added, rising, and taking a chair by her side, “except here.”

Miss Truefitt appeared to tremble, and made as though to rise. Then she sat still and took a gentle peep at Mr. Catesby from the corner of her eye.

“I hope that you are not sorry that I am here?” said that gentleman.

Miss Truefitt hesitated. “No,” she said, at last.

“Are you—are you glad?” asked the modest Richard.

Miss Truefitt averted her eyes altogether. “Yes,” she said, faintly.

A strange feeling of solemnity came over the triumphant Richard. He took the hand nearest to him and pressed it gently.

“I—I can hardly believe in my good luck,” he murmured.

“Good luck?” said Prudence, innocently.

“Isn’t it good luck to hear you say that you are glad I’m here?” said Catesby.

“You’re the best judge of that,” said the girl, withdrawing her hand. “It doesn’t seem to me much to be pleased about.”

Mr. Catesby eyed her in perplexity, and was about to address another tender remark to her when she was overcome by a slight fit of coughing. At the same moment he started at the sound of a shuffling footstep in the passage. Somebody tapped at the door.

“Yes?” said Prudence.

“Can’t find the knife-powder, miss,” said a harsh voice. The door was pushed open and disclosed a tall, bony woman of about forty. Her red arms were bare to the elbow, and she betrayed several evidences of a long and arduous day’s charing.

“It’s in the cupboard,” said Prudence. “Why, what’s the matter, Mrs. Porter?”

Mrs. Porter made no reply. Her mouth was wide open and she was gazing with starting eyeballs at Mr. Catesby.

“Joe!” she said, in a hoarse whisper. “Joe!”

Mr. Catesby gazed at her in chilling silence. Miss Truefitt, with an air of great surprise, glanced from one to the other.

“Joe!” said Mrs. Porter again. “Ain’t you goin’ to speak to me?”

Mr. Catesby continued to gaze at her in speechless astonishment. She skipped clumsily round the table and stood before him with her hands clasped.

“Where ‘ave you been all this long time?” she demanded, in a higher key.

“You—you’ve made a mistake,” said the bewildered Richard.

“Mistake?” wailed Mrs. Porter. “Mistake! Oh, where’s your ‘art?”

Before he could get out of her way she flung her arms round the horrified young man’s neck and em-braced him copiously. Over her bony left shoulder the frantic Richard met the ecstatic gaze of Miss Truefitt, and, in a flash, he realised the trap into which he had fallen.

“Mrs. Porter!” said Prudence.

“It’s my ‘usband, miss,” said the Amazon, reluctantly releasing the flushed and dishevelled Richard; “‘e left me and my five eighteen months ago. For eighteen months I ‘aven’t ‘ad a sight of ‘is blessed face.”

She lifted the hem of her apron to her face and broke into discordant weeping.

“Don’t cry,” said Prudence, softly; “I’m sure he isn’t worth it.”

Mr. Catesby looked at her wanly. He was beyond further astonishment, and when Mrs. Truefitt entered the room with a laudable attempt to twist her features into an expression of surprise, he scarcely noticed her.