Dialstone Lane was at first disposed to look askance at Mr. Tasker.
Old-fashioned matrons clustered round to watch him cleaning the doorstep,
and, surprised at its whiteness, withdrew discomfited. Rumour had it
that he liked work, and scandal said that he had wept because he was not
allowed to do the washing.
[Illustration: "Old-fashioned matrons clustered round to watch him
cleaning the doorstep."]
The captain attributed this satisfactory condition of affairs to the
rules and regulations, though a slight indiscretion on the part of Mr.
Tasker, necessitating the unframing of the document to add to the latter,
caused him a little annoyance.
The first intimation he had of it was a loud knocking at the front door
as he sat dozing one afternoon in his easy-chair. In response to his
startled cry of "Come in!" the door opened and a small man, in a state
of considerable agitation, burst into the room and confronted him.
"My name is Chalk," he said, breathlessly.
"A friend of Mr. Tredgold's?" said the captain. "I've heard of you,
sir."
The visitor paid no heed.
"My wife wishes to know whether she has got to dress in the dark every
afternoon for the rest of her life," he said, in fierce but trembling
tones.
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