'And he's coming to pay you a visit; that's what's the matter,' continued the youth, still with the glass raised. 'Nails, you'd better hide that novel, and pretend you've been sewing. Beauty [this was an alternative name for the second sister], are you at the proper angle? Baby, smooth out your pinafore.' 'Thomas, I insist on your treating your sisters with more respect!' his mother said, angrily. 'Well, I should almost like to be that fellow,' continued Thomas, with perfect good-humour. 'Fancy: at five-and-twenty, commanding a ten-gun brig! He has brains, that chap; not like the others that come fooling around here. Why, old Stratherne told me all about him. They made him a Lieutenant when he was just of age.' 'With your abilities, Tom,' said his eldest sister, 'I suppose you'll be commanding one of her Majesty's ships, too, when you're five-and-twenty.' He was not at all crushed by the sarcasm. 'My abilities,' he said, still looking through the glass, 'are, I know, remarkable; but I think, on the whole, a rich widow will be more in my line of country.' By this time all the girls had come to the window to watch the busy scene without--the small sailing-boats and rowing-boats passing and repassing under the bows and stern of the brig, their occupants staring at the guns in the open ports or listening to the fiddling on the forecastle, where the men were dancing. But the interest of the Beresfords was concentrated rather on the gig that waited below, at the foot of the accommodation-ladder, with five blue-jackets in her. They saw an officer descend and step into the stern of the gig; then she was shoved off, and simultaneously the oars struck the water. In a very few minutes the bow of the boat was run up on the beach, the gangboard put out, and then the officer stepped ashore. 'Oh, my! ain't we resplendent?' remarked the brother of the girls, apparently to himself. 'But it will be mortally awkward, young sir, if your ship should get aground, with the tide ebbing. Lawks-a-mussy! a court-martial. Even your first-class certificates, and Sir George Stratherne, and all the Lords put together, couldn't get you out of that. And, then, the ignominy of it! _Question_: What on earth made you take the _Fly-by-Night_ in to Brighton? _Answer_: Please, sir--ax yer pardon, sir!--I only wanted to spoon one o' them doosid pretty Beresford girls.' 'Thomas, leave the room!' said his mother, in a violent rage. Thomas could not help it; he had to go. But he said as he passed by her, 'Take care, mother; you are involving yourself in something serious. Her Majesty's brig _Fly-by-Night_ will be aground in about two twinkles!'