ft of old age."

What the Admiral actually said was--"Hullo! what the devil are you
young cubs quarrelling about?"

And now, satisfied that no blood is to be spilt, the Muse hies gladly
to a very different scene.

In the drawing-room of "The Bower" Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys was sitting
with a puzzled face and a letter on her lap. She had gone to the
front door to learn Sam Buzza's answer, and, having dismissed her
messenger, was returning, when the garden-gate creaked, and a
blue-jerseyed man, with a gravely humorous face, stood before her.
The new comer had regarded her long and earnestly before asking--

"Be you Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys?"

"I am."

"Answerin' to name o' Geraldine, an' lawful wife o' party answerin'
to name o' Honorubble Frederic?"

"Certainly!" she smiled.

"H'm. Then this 'ere's for you." And the blue-jerseyed man handed a
letter, and looked at her again, searchingly.

"Is there an answer?"

"No, I reckon."

She was turning, when the man suddenly laid a finger on her arm.

"Axin' pardon, but you'll let 'un down aisy, won't 'ee? He don't
bear no malice, tho' he've a-suffered a brave bit. Cure 'un, that's
what I say--cure 'un: this bein', o' cou'se, atween you an' me.
An' look 'ee here," he continued, with a slow nod; "s'posin' the
party lets on as he's a-falled in love wi' another party, I reckon
you won't be the party to hinder et. Mind, I bain't sayin' you
cou'd, but you won't try, will 'ee? That's atween you an' me, o'
cou'se."

The man winked solemnly, and turned down the path. Before she
recovered of her astonishment he had paused again at the gate, and
was looking back.

"That's understood," he nodded; "atween you an' me an' the gate-post,
o' cou'se."

With that he had disappeared.

Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys, if bewildered at this, was yet more astonished
at the contents of the letter.

"Fogo?" she repeated, with a glance at the signature--"Fogo?
Won't that be the name of the woman-hater up at Kit's House, me
dear?"

"Certainly," answered the Honourable Frederic.

"Then I'll trouble yez to listen to this."

She read as follows:--

"My Dear Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys,
When last you left me I prayed that we might never meet again.
But time is stronger than I fancied, and here I am writing to
you. Fate must have been in her most ironical mood to bring us
so near in this corner of the world. I thought you were in
another continent; but if you will let m