"Whish!" cried Mrs Gilmour playfully. "None of your blarney!" "Oh, Bob!" exclaimed Nellie, interposing at this juncture, while they still all stood talking together in front of the house, neither Mrs Gilmour nor the `old commodore' having yet given the signal for sailing, "she has got such a dear little place of her own." "Who's `she'--the cat's mother, Nell?" Nellie laughed. "I mean the old lady who had the broken eggs." "Aye," put in the Captain, "and who nearly had broken legs likewise!" This made Nellie laugh again. "Oh, you know who I mean very well, Bob," said she, when she had ceased to giggle. "She has got the dearest little cottage, you ever saw. It is fitted up just like the cabin of a ship inside; her husband, who was a ship's carpenter, having done it all. Why, the walls are covered with Chinese pictures and shells and curios which he picked up in all sorts of outlandish places, bringing them home after his various voyages. Oh, Bob, you never saw such funny things." "Didn't the woman say something of having an invalid daughter?" inquired the Captain. "I think I heard her speak of one yesterday at the station." "Yes, poor thing," said Mrs Gilmour. "She's got spinal complaint, and we saw her lying on the sofa in the queer little parlour crammed with curiosities that Nell took such a fancy to. She seems a very nice girl, so happy and contented although in such a helpless state! Her old mother, whom I know you thought fussy and selfish, is quite devoted to her." "Humph!" ejaculated the Captain, taking no notice of Mrs Gilmour's allusions to his original impression of the stout personage with whom Rover had, so to speak, entangled them into an acquaintance. "Perhaps some of that old port wine of mine would do the girl good, eh, ma'am?" "Not a doubt of it, she looks so pale and delicate," replied Mrs Gilmour. "But there will be plenty of time to think about that to- morrow. Let us go on now to the beach, or it will be too late for us to do so before dinner." "Come on then, I'm yours obediently," said the Captain with his usual chirpy chuckle. "By Jove, though, I think I've had pretty nearly walking enough for one day for an old fellow turned sixty." This time they steered clear of the castle, the exciting memories of the previous evening being too vivid in Mrs Gilmour's mind to allow the boys to go near the treacherous footing of the rampart again. Instead of going thither, they turned their footsteps rather to the eastern portion of the shore; where a shelving, shingly beach sloped gradually down to the water, and thus no danger to be feared of Master Bob or any one else plunging in suddenly without warning, as happened unfortunately before.