ps, named Haco Barepoles, a man of
excellent disposition, but gifted with such a superabundance of animal
spirits, courage, and recklessness, that he was known in the port of
Wreckumoft as Mad Haco.

Much exhausted by one of the hardest nights of toil and exposure I ever
spent, I retired to my room and sought and found repose.

CHAPTER FIVE.

THE BREAKFAST PARTY AT SEASIDE VILLA.

The morning after the storm was bright and beautiful. The breakers,
indeed, were still thundering on the shore, but otherwise the sea was
calm, and the sun shone into the breakfast parlour of Seaside Villa with
a degree of intensity that might have warmed the heart of an oyster. It
certainly warmed the heart of the household cat, which, being an early
riser, was first down-stairs, and lay at full length on the rug,
enjoying at once the heat of the glowing fire which tinged its brown
back with red, and the blazing sun which turned its white breast yellow.

Presently a dark cloud entered the room. It sat on the brow of George
Stuart, Esquire, of Wreckumoft, the head of the family. Mr Stuart
walked up to the fire and turned his back to it, as if to offer it a
deliberate insult, while yet he accepted all the benefit it could afford
him on that cold December morning.

The cat being in his way, he moved it out of his way with his foot. He
did it roughly, but he did not exactly kick it, for he was not a cruel,
or naturally unkind man.

Having disposed of the cat, and looked twice at his watch, and blown his
nose three times--the last twice unnecessarily--Mr Stuart rang the bell
with violence.

Mrs Niven entered.

"Why is breakfast not ready?" said the master with asperity.

"Breakfast _is_ ready, sir," replied the housekeeper with dignity.

"Where is my sister, then, and the rest of them?" The questioner was
partly answered by the abrupt and somewhat flurried entrance of the
sister referred to.

"What's the meaning of this, Peppy?" demanded Mr Stuart with a frown.

"My dear George," said Miss Peppy, bustling about actively, "I really
_am_ sorry, but you know things can't always be just as one would wish,
and then when things _do_ turn out occasionally as one would _not_ wish,
and as one had no expectation of, and, so to speak, without consulting
one at all, (dear me, where _is_ that key?)--and when one can't help
things turning out so, you know, it's really too much to--to--you know
what I mean, brother; come now, be reasona