t so certain of that," replied she. "'Deed, and I won't."

"Besides, we enjoyed them so, do you know," continued the old sailor,
chuckling away at a fine rate. "Sure they were mighty fine, ma'am. The
best soles I ivver ate, sure."

"That makes the matter worse, you robber!" she retorted, smiling good-
naturedly at his broad mimicry of her Irish pronunciation. "Why, ye're
adding insult now to injury, sure."

"Never mind, Polly," interposed her brother, acting as peacemaker
between the two. "The Captain will show you how to cook soles properly
the next time he catches any."

"Yes," said Mrs Gilmour drily, "if he doesn't ate them first."

"By Jove, I promise not to do that, ma'am, for I don't like 'em raw,"
replied the offender, keeping up the fun, and not one whit abashed by
these comments on his behaviour. "Really, though, ma'am, I think you
ought to forgive me now, and banish your hard feelings, as you've given
me a wigging. Besides, if we did eat all the soles, I've brought you
home a fine big skate, and lots of plaice, instead."

"Sure, I'll consider about it," said his hostess, showing signs of
relenting. "But don't you think, now, skates are rather out of place in
this warm weather, eh, Captain?"

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

MISSING!

"Humph! that makes the rubber," cried the Captain late one evening, some
little time after the events recorded in the last chapter, when they
were winding up the day with a game of whist, which had succeeded the
nightly battle of cribbage wherewith Mrs Gilmour and the old sailor
used to amuse their leisure before the advent of the barrister and Mrs
Strong on the scene. "What say all you good people to a trip to
Southampton to-morrow? There will be an excursion steamer running there
in the morning, starting from the old pier at ten o'clock sharp, I
think."

"All right; now you've beaten us, I suppose you want to appear generous,
and divert our attention from our defeat," said Mrs Dugald Strong, with
a fine touch of sarcasm, as the Captain chuckled over the odd trick, and
collected the spoils of war, in the shape of sundry little fish-
counters, which he and his partner, aunt Polly, had won, through the old
sailor's successful manipulation of the cards. "I believe we've seen
all that is to be seen in the isle of Wight."

"Indade you have," corroborated Mrs Gilmour. "We've been everywhere in
the sweet little place--no wonder it's called the `garden of England'!
Sure