The little room was neat as a new pin; through the open port-holes came the sound and smell of the sea--thud, splash, thud, splash, and the mournful tolling of a bell buoy. The admiral's bunk was narrow and white, Joan thought that it looked too small for a man, like the bed of a little child, with its high polished mahogany side. Above it the porthole stood wide open--thud, splash, there was the sea again; the sound came with rhythmical precision at short intervals. Milly had found the washstand, it was an entrancing washstand! There was a stationary basin cased in mahogany with fascinating buttons that you pressed against to make the water flow; Milly had never seen buttons like this before, all the taps at Leaside turned on in a most uninteresting way. Above the washstand was a rack for the water bottle and glass, and the bottle and glass had each its own hole into which it fitted with the neatest precision. The walls of the cabin were white like all the others in this house of surprises, white and glossy. Thud, splash, thud, splash, and a sudden whiff of seaweed that came in with a breath of air. Joan thought, "Oh it is a truthful house, it would never deceive you!" Aloud she said, "I like it!" The admiral beamed. "So do I," he agreed. "I like it all," said Joan, "the noises and the smell and the whiteness. I wish we lived in a ship-house like this, it's so reassuring." "Reassuring?" he queried; he didn't understand what she meant, he thought her a queer old-fashioned child, but his heart went out to her. "Yes, reassuring; safe you know; you could trust it; I mean, it wouldn't be untruthful." "Oh, I see," he laughed. "I built it," he told her with a touch of pride; "it was entirely my own idea. The people round here think I'm a little mad, I believe; they call me 'Commodore Trunnion'; but then, dear me, everyone's a little mad on one subject or another--I'm mad on the sea. Listen, Miss Joan! Isn't that fine music? I lie here and listen to it every night, it's almost as good as being on it!" Milly interrupted. "Tell us about your battles!" she pleaded. "My _what_?" said the admiral, taken aback. "The ones you fought in," said Milly coaxingly. "Bless the child! I've never been in a battle in my life; what battles have there been in my time, I'd like to know!" Milly looked crestfallen. "But you were on a battleship," she protested. The admiral opened his mouth and guffawed. "God bless my soul, what's that got to do with it?" They had made their way downstairs again now and were walking towards the garden door. Milly clung to her point. "It ought to have something to do with it, I should suppose," she said rather pompously. The admiral looked suddenly grave. "It will, some day," he said. "When will it be?" asked Joan; she felt interested. "When the great war comes," he replied; "though God grant it won't be in your time."