Sarah, "the good Sarah," opened the door, as she usually did; but she appeared to perform the task on the present occasion with even more than her usual alacrity, while her face wore a pleased expression that had not visited it since the composition of that celebrated poem in honour of her memory! She actually beamed with delight and looked "bursting, aye, bursting with good news!" as the Captain said afterwards. "Why, whatever is the matter, Sarah?" asked Mrs Gilmour. "Speak, my good girl!" She paid no attention, however, to her mistress. "Oh, Master Bob--oh, Miss Nell!" she exclaimed. "Who do you think have come, and is now in the house?" CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. ON BOARD THE OLD "VICTORY." Bob and Nellie both stared at Sarah in surprise. They thought, for the moment, the poor girl had lost her wits! An inkling of the truth, however, flashed across their minds the next instant; and, pushing past the almost incoherent Sarah, who said something which neither of them caught the sense of, the two rushed into the lighted hall in a flurry of excitement. Here the sight of several corded trunks and other luggage, which had not been there when they went out of the house earlier in the evening, at once confirmed their joyous anticipations. "Hurrah!" cried Bob, giving vent to his feelings first. "Dad and mother are here at last!" Nell, though, got ahead of him in greeting the new-comers. "Oh, mamma!" she said, dashing towards the door of the dining-room which opened into the hall and meeting half-way a stately lady who was advancing with open arms. "My own dear mamma!" The Captain and Mrs Gilmour had now come into the hall, following more sedately the harum-scarum youngsters; and while the former hung back, waiting to be introduced as soon as the first greetings were over, the good lady of the house advanced eagerly to welcome a tall and bearded gentleman, with a right good pair of broad shoulders of his own, who came forward to meet her, with Bob clinging to one of his arms while the other was round his neck. "Why, me dear Dugald, it's never you!" exclaimed Mrs Gilmour as her brother let go Bob and caught both her outstretched hands in his, giving them a fraternal grip. "Sure, is it yoursilf, or somebody ilse?" "Mesilf, Polly, sure enough," replied he in a deep baritone voice, that resembled Bob's, but had a very slight suspicion of the Irish brogue in it like her own. "Right glad am I to say ye again, too, mavourneen! Ye're a sight good for sore eyes, sure!" He laughed as he said this, a racy, genial laugh in keeping with his looks; and the Captain instantly took a liking to him for his own sake, apart from his likeness to his sister, Mrs Gilmour, who now introduced him, having already prepossessed the old sailor in his favour. "Me brother--Captain Dresser," she said smiling. "I'm sure you ought to know each other by this time, if you don't already!"