"Come in," exclaimed the resonant voice of the Admiral. And Tom Sedley obeyed. The Admiral extended his hand, and greeted Tom kindly, but gravely. "Fine day, Mr. Sedley; very fine, sir. It's an odd thing, Tom Sedley, but there's more really fine weather up here, at Hazelden, than anywhere else in Wales. More sunshine, and a _deal_ less rain. You'd hardly believe, for you'd fancy on this elevated ground we should naturally have _more_ rain, but it's _less_, by several inches, than anywhere else in Wales! And there's next to no damp--the hygrometer tells _that_. And a curious thing, you'll have a southerly wind up here when it's blowing from the east on the estuary. You can see it, by Jove! Now just look out of that window; did you ever see such sunshine as that? There's a clearness in the air up here--at the _other_ side, if you go up, you get _mist_--but there's something about it here that I would not change for any place in the world." You may be sure Tom did not dispute any of these points. "By Jove, Tom Sedley, it would be a glorious day for a sail round the point of Penruthyn. I'd have been down with the tide, sir, this morning if I had been as I was ten years ago; but a fellow doesn't like to be lifted into his yacht, and the girls did not care for sailing; so I sold her. There wasn't such a boat--take her for everything--in the _world_--_never_!" "The _Feather_; wasn't she, sir?" said Tom. "The _Feather_! that she was, sir. A name pretty well known, I venture to think. Yes, the _Feather_ was her name." "I _have_, sir; yes, indeed, often heard her spoken of," said Tom, who had heard one or two of the boatmen of Cardyllian mention her with a guarded sort of commendation. I never could learn, indeed, that there was anything very remarkable about the boat; but Tom would just then have backed any assertion of the honest Admiral's with a loyal alacrity, bordering, I am afraid, upon unscrupulousness. "There are the girls going out with their trowels, going to poke among those flowers; and certainly, I'll do them justice to say, their garden prospers. I don't see such flowers _any_where; do you?" "_Nowhere!_" said Tom, with enthusiasm. "By, there they're at it--grubbing and raking. And, by-the-by, Tom, what was that? Sit down for a minute." Tom felt as if he was going to choke, but he sat down. "What was that--some nonsense Charity was telling me last night?" Thus invited, poor Sedley, with many hesitations, and wanderings, and falterings, did get through his romantic story. And Mr. Etherage did not look pleased by the recital; on the contrary, he carried his head unusually high, and looked hot and minatory, but he did not explode. He continued looking on the opposite wall, as he had done as if he were eyeing a battle there, and he cleared his voice.