On the fourth day the captain was out, and
Miss Drewitt, after a casual peep from the kitchen window, shrugged her
shoulders and returned to the sitting-room.
"Mr. Tredgold must be very cold up there, miss," said Mr. Tasker,
respectfully, as he brought in the tea. "He keeps slapping his chest and
blowing on his fingers to keep 'imself warm."
Miss Drewitt said "Oh!" and, drawing the little table up to her
easy-chair, put down her book and poured herself out a cup of tea. She
had just arranged it to her taste-two lumps of sugar and a liberal
allowance of cream--when a faint rap sounded on the front door.
"Come in!" she said, taking her feet from the fender and facing about.
The door opened and revealed to her indignant gaze the figure of Mr.
Tredgold. His ears and nose were of a brilliant red and his eyes were
watering with the cold. She eyed him inquiringly.
"Good afternoon," he said, bowing.
Miss Drewitt returned the greeting.
"Isn't Captain Bowers in?" said Mr. Tredgold, with a shade of
disappointment in his voice as he glanced around.
"No," said the girl.
Mr. Tredgold hesitated. "I was going to ask him to give me a cup of
tea," he said, with a shiver.
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