ack a heavy pannier. His legs were encased in mighty
boots, a shaggy beard hung down over his chest; his eyes, sombre and
unsmiling, roved over the assembled children.

There was a sudden silence: then the small girl with the white bow over
one ear burst into tears. "Boo-hoo!" she cried. "Don't like nasty
man," and ran to bury her face in her hostess's gown. Her fears were
infectious, and symptoms of a general panic ensued. "I knew it,"
mumbled the visitor despairingly into his beard, "I _knew_ this would
happen."

"Children, children, don't be silly--it's only Father Neptune. He's
got presents for you all. Won't you go and say how d'you do to him!
He's come all the way from the bottom of the sea."

Cornelius James pulled himself together and advanced with outstretched
hand, as befitted the son of a post-captain on board his father's ship.
"I know who you are," he asserted stoutly. "You're Father Christmas's
brother!"

The First Lieutenant hastily accepted this new mythology. "Quite
right," he replied with gratitude, "quite right!" Then, as if
realising that something further was required of him, added in a deep
bass voice:

"_Fee! Fi! Fo! Fum!_"

White Bow screamed, and even Cornelius James the valiant fell back a
pace. Matters were beginning to look serious, when the Torpedo
Lieutenant appeared, rather out of breath. "Sorry we had to rush away
just now, but we had to furl the awning----" His quick eye took in the
situation at a glance.

"Hallo! old chap," he cried, and smote the dejected Father Neptune
on the back. "I _am_ delighted to see you! How are all the
mermaids and flying-fish? Bless my soul! what have you got in this
pannier--dolls . . . lead soldiers, air-guns! I _say_----"

The children rallied round him as the children of another age must have
rallied round Saint George of England.

"Don't like nasty old man," repeated White Bow, considering the First
Lieutenant with dewy eyes. "Nasty cross old man." The visitor from
the bottom of the sea fumbled irresolutely with his trident.

"Is it really Father Christmas's own brother?" queried a small sceptic,
advancing warily.

"Of course it is! Look here, look at all the things he's brought you,"
and in an undertone to the First Lieutenant, "Buck up, Number One,
don't look so frightened!" They unslung the pannier and commenced to
unpack the contents; the children gathered round with slowly returning
confidence, and by twos and