“Oh, yes, sir, with a cargo of flour to Habana. He will bring back West India sugar and molasses.” “Why, what a businesswoman you are, Babby. You know all about every thing.” “Ay, ay, sir!” exclaimed Barbara, laughing. “And hark ye, Monsieur”—she said, mysteriously bending toward him, and whispering so low that but the last words of her communication were heard—“for Madame.” “Oh, Barbara, Barbara, you shocking little smuggler! I ought to deliver you to the authorities.” “No, no, Monsieur. They are for Madame—the sweetmeats,” said the girl. “For Madame? Very well. I have not presented you to Madame. I must do so,” he said, taking her hand with a droll formality, turning her about facing the lady, and continuing: “Madame L’Orient, my sweetheart, Barbarie, the daughter of my brave Captain Brande, who owns and commands the good brig Kelpie, trading between this coast and the West Indies, the Bermudas, South America, England—anywhere. Ma belle Barbarie used to sail with the skipper in all his voyages, but now she stays home and takes care of the boys, while her father is at sea, and does a little in the smuggling line when he comes home—do you not?” he asked, playfully, chucking the girl under the chin. “No—no, Monsieur!” “Mon Dieu! she has a hamper or so of West India sweetmeats hidden away, that has never seen the outside of a custom-house! but she does not dabble in smuggling! _she_ does not! Eh, bien! She says they are for Madame, and we will excuse her and thank her.” “Will Monsieur and Madame come in and rest?” asked the maiden. “No, no, my child—but can you let us have the old carry-all? We are going on to Eastville?” “Oh, yes, Monsieur! Will you want me to drive?” “No, my child; I have Louis with me, and if I had not—death of my life! do you suppose I would sit back at my ease, and allow you to hold the reins?” “Monsieur is very polite, but he knows that I am accustomed to drive passengers from the coast to Eastville.” “Not when they are gentlemen, my pretty one! But, now! how soon can we have that carriage ready?” “If you and Madame will walk in and sit down, I will put the horses to it directly.” “By no means, my little one! Direct my servant, Louis, where to find them—he will do it.” “But, Monsieur,” said the girl, laughing, “if you patronize our house much, you will spoil me! I shall forget the use of my hands, and permit them to grow soft and white, like a lady’s.” “The gallant young mate of the Kelpie will not object to that, my beauty!” said the old gentleman, who, looking around and seeing Louis coming up the bank, beckoned him to approach, and directed him to go to the stables, get the carriage out, put the horse to it and bring it around. Louis bowed and went off toward a dilapidated pile of grey stone buildings, at some distance behind the dwelling-house, and which had probably long ago deserved the name of stables.