"Ever since I beheld you and your husband--whom I do not see"

(here the Admiral stared ferociously under a table), "but who, I trust, is in health--for the first time in church yesterday"-- (Oh, Admiral Buzza!)--"I have been forcibly reminded of an expression in one of our British poets, which runs--Sophia, how the devil does it run?"

Neither of the Misses Buzza had the faintest idea. Their father's efforts to remember it were interrupted by Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys, who begged them, with a charming smile, to be seated.

"My husband," she said, "will be down in a minute or two. It is really most kind of you to call; for, as strangers, we are naturally anxious to hear about the place and its people."

Her voice, which was low and musical, came with the prettiest trip upon the tongue. There was just the faintest shade of brogue in it-- for instance, she said "me husband"--but I cannot attempt to reproduce it.

Upon this hinted desire for information, the Admiral bestowed his c.o.c.ked-hat under the chair, and began--

"Our small town, ma'am, may be viewed in many aspects--as an emporium of commerce, a holiday centre, or a health resort. In our trade you would naturally, with your tastes, find little interest. It is rather our scenic advantages, our romantic fortresses, our river (p.r.o.nounced by many to equal the Rhine), our mild atmosphere--"

"On the contrary, I take the greatest interest in your trade."

The Admiral lifted his brows and smiled, as one who would imply "You are kind enough to say so, but really, with your high connections, that can hardly be seriously believed." What he said was--

"It is indeed good of you to interest yourself in our simple tastes.

We are (I confess it) to some degree--ahem!--mercantile, and as citizens of Troy esteem it our duty to acquaint ourselves (theoretically) with the products of other lands. To this end I have had all my daughters carefully grounded in the 'Child's Guide to Knowledge.' Jane, my dear, what is Gamboge?"

"A vegetable, gummy juice, of a most beautiful yellow colour, chiefly brought from Gambodia in the East Indies," repeated Jane, with a glance at her gown.

"You see, ma'am," explained her father with a wave of the hand, "it is a form of instruction in which the rawness of the material is to some extent veiled by a clothing of picturesque accessories.

This will be even more noticeable in the case of Soy. Calypso, inform Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys of the humorous illusion under which our seamen labour with regard to Soy."

But at this point the door opened, and Mr. Samuel Buzza entered, with Mr. Goodwyn-Sandys himself.

The introductions were gone through; the Admiral let off another speech of welcome, and plunged with the Honourable Frederic into a long discussion of Troy, its scenery and neighbourhood; the three girls sat bolt upright, each on the edge of her chair; and their brother took his hostess' extended hand with a bashful grin.

"Ah, Mr. Buzza, I am interested in you already--my husband has been telling me how he met you."

"Proud to hear it," muttered Sam.

"Oh, yes. I hope we shall be great friends. It is so kind of you all to call."

Sam asked her not to mention it; and looked at his father, whose face was by this time purple with conversation.

"I say, ain't the old boy enjoying himself, though!" he remarked in a sudden burst of confidence. "What do you think of him?"

Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys smiled sweetly, and replied that the Admiral was "so thorough."

"Thorough old duffer, you mean. Look at him. What with his gold spangles and his talking to Mr. Goodwyn-Sandys, he's as proud as a c.o.c.k on a wall."

His hostess laughed. "You are very frank," she said.

"That's me all over," replied Sam, evidently pleased. "You see, I ain't polite--not a ladies' man in any way."

"There I am sure you do yourself injustice."

"No, 'pon my word! I never had any practice."

"What, not among all the charming girls I saw in church yesterday?

Oh, Mr. Buzza, you mustn't tell me _that_." A look from the dark eyes accompanied this sentence.

Now, very few young men of Sam's stamp greatly mind being considered gay Lotharios. So that when he repeated that "'Pon his word he wasn't," he also turned his neck about in his collar for a second or so, smiled meaningly, and altogether looked rather pleased than not.

"I'm afraid you are a very sad character, Mr. Buzza."

"No, really now."

"And are deceiving me horribly."

"No, really; wouldn't think of it."

"Sam!" broke in the Admiral's voice in tones of thunder.

"Yes, sir."

"How does Mr. Moggridge describe the 'Man-o'-War' Hotel?"

"Says the beer's falling off, sir. It _did_, once upon a time, taste of the barrel, but now he'll be hanged if it tastes of anything at all. It ought--"

"Don't be a fool, sir! I mean in that poem of his from 'Ivy Leaves: or, Tendrils from Troy.'"

"Beg pardon, sir, I'm sure. Let me see--"

Before he could recall it, Sophia finished the quotation, timidly.

"I think, papa, I can remember it:--"

'And thou, Quaint hostel! 'neath whose mould'ring gable ends In amber draught I slake my noonday thirst . . .'

"Something like that, I think, papa."

"Ah, to be sure: 'mould'ring gable ends,' a most accurate description. It used to belong to--" and the Admiral plunged again into a flood of conversation.

"You must bring this Mr. Moggridge and introduce him," said Mrs.

Goodwyn-Sandys to Sam. "He is a Collector of Customs, is he not?

Do you think he would recite any of his verses to me?"

"By the hour. But I shouldn't advise you to ask him. It's all about my sister."

"Which?"

"The eldest there--Sophy's her name--and don't judge from appearances; the family diet is not hardware."

"Hush, sir! you must not be rude. That reminds me that I ought to go and speak to them."

"You won't get anything out of them. If you want a subject, though, I'll give you the straight tip--lambs. I've heard them talk about lambs by the hour. Say they are nice and soft and woolly: that'll draw them out."

"You are a great quiz, I perceive."