ich were thus a
constant source of alarm to Bob's little crabs; for, it was ever
listlessly waving perilously near these nervous creatures, making them
hurry out of their way in such frantic haste as their lateral
conformation permitted.

It was a long job arranging the aquarium, engrossing the attention of
all engaged and taking up the entire morning; aye, and all midday, too!

"Good gracious me!" exclaimed Mrs Gilmour, coming into the room when
they had just completed the task. "What a long time you've been at it,
to be sure! I believe I could have made an aquarium by now, let alone
fit it up."

"Ah, ma'am, `more haste, worse speed,'" retorted the old sailor. "`Rome
wasn't built in a day,' you know."

"I thought you had enough of the Romans yesterday," said Mrs Gilmour,
giving him this little cut in return for his brace of proverbs. "But,
come, Sarah, you must see about getting luncheon now. I want it ready
as soon as possible. You'll stop, Captain Dresser, I suppose?"

"Oh yes, ma'am, if you'll allow me," he replied with a chuckle. "I know
when I'm well off. You recollect, ma'am, you said just now the cook was
my friend."

"Do you know why I wanted to have lunch especially early to-day?" she
asked him anon, when they were seated at the table. "Can you guess?"

"No, by Jove, I can't!" he snorted out indignantly. "I'm not a
clairvoyant, or whatever else you call those people who pretend to read
other people's thoughts."

"Sure, then, I'll tell you," she said, laughing at his quaint manner,
"I'm going to see Mrs Craddock."

"I'm just as much in the dark as ever," he retorted. "Who the dickens
is the woman, eh?"

Nell saved her aunt the trouble of answering.

"Why, don't you remember the old lady at the station whom Rover tumbled
down and broke her eggs?" she cried out eagerly. "You must recollect,
for you sent her some port wine for her poor daughter, which auntie and
I took the second time we went to see her.--You must remember her!"

"Ah, yes, I remember now," said the Captain, scratching his head
reflectively. "So that's her name, eh--Craddock, Craddock. Where have
I heard it before? By Jove, I've got it now! Why, ma'am, there was a
Craddock who was boatswain of the old _Bucephalus_ on the West Coast."

"What!" cried Mrs Gilmour. "My poor dear Ted's ship?"

"The same, ma'am," he answered. "I recollect the man very well now. He
was a tall, spare, intellectual-looking chap, more like