the Ferry Inn for a dish of tea. "And glad I am to be
across the river in good time," she told the landlady; "for by the
look of the sky there's a thunderstorm coming."

Sure enough there was, and it broke over the Hamoaze with a bang
just as Captain Bligh and his friend put across in the ferry-boat.
The lightning whizzed, and the rain came down like the floods of
Deva, and in five minutes' time the streets and gutters of Torpoint
were pouring on to the Quay like so many shutes, and turning all the
inshore water to the colour of pea-soup. Another twenty minutes and
'twas over; blue sky above and the birds singing, and the roof and
trees all a-twinkle in the sun; and out steps Mrs. Polwhele very
gingerly in the landlady's pattens, to find the Highflyer ready to
start, the guard unlashing the tarpaulin that he'd drawn over the
outside luggage, the horses steaming and anxious to be off, and on
the box-seat a couple of gentlemen wet to the skin, and one of them
looking as ugly as a chained dog in a street fight. This was Bligh,
of course. His friend, Mr. Sharl, sat alongside, talking low and
trying to coax him back to a good temper: but Mrs. Polwhele missed
taking notice of this. She hadn't seen the gentlemen arrive, by
reason that, being timid of thunder, at the very first peal she'd run
upstair, and crawled under one of the bed-ties: and there she bided
until the chambermaid brought word that the sky was clear and the
coach waiting.

If ever you've had to do with timmersome folks I dare say you've
noted how talkative they get as soon as danger's over. Mrs. Polwhele
took a glance at the inside of the coach to make sure that her
belongings were safe, and then, turning to the ladder that the Boots
was holding for her to mount, up she trips to her outside place
behind the box-seat, all in a fluff and commotion, and chattering
so fast that the words hitched in each other like beer in a
narrow-necked bottle.

"Give you good morning, gentlemen!" said Mrs. Polwhele, "and I do
hope and trust I haven't kept you waiting; but thunder makes me
_that_ nervous! 'Twas always the same with me from a girl; and la!
what a storm while it lasted! I declare the first drops looked to me
a'most so big as crown-pieces. Most unfortunate it should come on
when you were crossing--most unfortunate, I vow! There's nothing so
unpleasant as sitting in damp clothes, especially if you're not
accustomed to it. My husband, now--if he puts on