it. Is that right?"

Again the Admiral wriggled. It was very awkward for the gallant seaman
to have a handsome woman opposite to him, bombarding him with questions
to none of which he could find an answer. "Couldn't even get the
tompions out of his guns," as he explained the matter to the Doctor that
evening.

"Now those are really the points that we shall lay stress upon at the
meeting. The free and complete opening of the professions, the final
abolition of the zenana I call it, and the franchise to all women
who pay Queen's taxes above a certain sum. Surely there is nothing
unreasonable in that. Nothing which could offend your principles. We
shall have medicine, law, and the church all rallying that night for the
protection of woman. Is the navy to be the one profession absent?"

The Admiral jumped out of his chair with an evil word in his throat.
"There, there, ma'am," he cried. "Drop it for a time. I have heard
enough. You've turned me a point or two. I won't deny it. But let it
stand at that. I will think it over."

"Certainly, Admiral. We would not hurry you in your decision. But we
still hope to see you on our platform." She rose and moved about in her
lounging masculine fashion from one picture to another, for the walls
were thickly covered with reminiscences of the Admiral's voyages.

"Hullo!" said she. "Surely this ship would have furled all her lower
canvas and reefed her topsails if she found herself on a lee shore with
the wind on her quarter."

"Of course she would. The artist was never past Gravesend, I swear. It's
the Penelope as she was on the 14th of June, 1857, in the throat of the
Straits of Banca, with the Island of Banca on the starboard bow, and
Sumatra on the port. He painted it from description, but of course, as
you very sensibly say, all was snug below and she carried storm sails
and double-reefed topsails, for it was blowing a cyclone from the
sou'east. I compliment you, ma'am, I do indeed!"

"Oh, I have done a little sailoring myself--as much as a woman can
aspire to, you know. This is the Bay of Funchal. What a lovely frigate!"

"Lovely, you say! Ah, she was lovely! That is the Andromeda. I was a
mate aboard of her--sub-lieutenant they call it now, though I like the
old name best."

"What a lovely rake her masts have, and what a curve to her bows! She
must have been a clipper."

The old sailor rubbed his hands and his eyes glistened. His old ships
bordered close upon his wife