and put a frying pan on the stove to heat. The whole of the cottage became filled presently with an odor that caused Captain Saulsby to sniff delightedly, but that would have made the nurse throw open every door and window.
When the delectable repast was over he came and sat down in the doorway and filled a pipe whose perfume rivalled that of even the onions.
“I’ll have to smoke night and day for a while,” he said, “to catch up on myself. Whew-ew, but that is good!”
Jacky Shute had laboured manfully in the garden during Captain Saulsby’s illness. Even his small remnant of a conscience smote him when he was tempted to neglect the weeds, and the Captain’s comment, “ship-shape as can be, Jacky; I didn’t know you had it in you,” made his small countenance beam with pride.
The delicate, crinkled poppies were blooming abundantly throughout the garden. It was the season when they were in their full glory, when all else in Captain Saulsby’s little place, the vegetables, the currant bushes, and the fruit trees, must be quite cast into the
