"Father's gone," said Miss Pilbeam.
The skipper made no answer. He was administering first aid to a right
leg which had temporarily forgotten how to perform its duties, varied
with slaps and pinches at a left which had gone to sleep. At intervals
he turned a red-rimmed and reproachful eye on Miss Pilbeam.
[Illustration: "He was administering first aid to a right leg."]
"You want a wash and some breakfast," she said, softly, "especially a
wash. There's water and a towel, and while you're making yourself tidy
I'll be getting breakfast."
The skipper hobbled to the wash-stand, and, dipping his head in a basin
of cool water, began to feel himself again. By the time he had done his
hair in the sergeant's glass and twisted his moustache into shape he felt
better still, and he went downstairs almost blithely.
"I'm very sorry it was your father," he said, as he took a seat at the
table. "Very."
"That's why you laughed, I suppose?" said the girl, tossing her head.
"Well, I've had the worst of it," said the other. "I'd sooner be upset a
hundred times than spend a night in that cupboard.
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