“I know that the shore demoralised my friend Lady Kitty Lake,” continued Mrs. Lascelles benignly; “she could not be prevailed on to leave it after she had reached it again. But what do you think her Commodore did to her, my dear Lady Bell? Kept her under closed hatches—whatever these may be—with no more light than half a tallow candle to make her head and do herself up, whenever the ship had taken a prize, and there was an insinuating enemy on board. However, she stole a march on her tyrant. She amused herself in the middle of some shocking sea-fight, by getting herself up in an imitation of her husband’s uniform. You must know she is a big, imposing-looking woman, and he a little ton of a man, as fat as one of the pigs in the coops, copper colour in complexion, bristling all over with hogs’ hair, and in the habit of amusing himself with cursing and swearing through a speaking-trumpet. I believe he is known as the ‘Cursing Commodore,’ though how cursing should be a means of distinguishing him from other commodores, I am at a loss to say. Well, the moment the firing ceased, Lady Kitty, metamorphosed into a creditable officer, ran upon deck, and was in time to get the enemy to deliver up to her his sword, which she returned with a genteel bow. The Commodore was so frightened for the trick’s being noised abroad—and he laughed at, if not superseded—that he was forced to connive at it, and so lost the opportunity of behaving with his usual brutality.” “Allow me to tell you, madam,” interposed Captain Fane, very sternly for the occasion, “that Commodore Lake has the reputation of being a most humane, as well as a very gallant officer in his squadron, to which I have the honour to belong.” “I’m quite easy, sir,” lisped Mrs. Lascelles, without a second’s awkwardness in the concession; “I tell the story as it was told to me. Perhaps you have also the pleasure of knowing my friend Lady Kitty.” “No, madam; and I conjecture that I should not feel myself at all worthy of the acquaintance,” growled Harry Fane. “Oh, I don’t know that, sir,” urged Mrs. Lascelles blandly. “Lady Kitty makes every allowance; particularly when, poor soul! she is a prisoner in a hideous den of a ship, with none but you amiable tars to make eyes at, in order to pass her time.” “Now, can’t you be amiable, Harry,” said Lady Sundon, in an audible aside, “as madam gives you credit for being without too much reason? Yes, I assure you, madam,” declared Lady Sundon, in a louder key, and directly addressing Mrs. Lascelles, “if my cousin had been on ship-board with your Lady Kitty, he would have been mighty proud to be made eyes at by so distinguished a lady, and would have done his best to entertain her with his books, and maps, and specimens. He is a fellow of parts, though he don’t do himself justice, or lay himself out to be agreeable.” “What a pity!” exclaimed Mrs. Lascelles sleepily.