For fireworks, it seems," said Cai sadly. "But I reckoned--though I
hate to talk about it--as this one looked straighter out to sea an' by
consequence 'd please ye better. That's why. . . . You're welcome to
change gardens to-morrow."

"Mrs Bosenna's comin' to-morrow," grunted 'Bias, and then, after a
second's pause, swore under his breath, yet audibly.

"What's the matter with ye, 'Bias?"

"I don't know. . . . Maybe 'tis that box o' tunes gets on my temper.
No, don't take it away. I didn' mean it like that, an' the music used
to be pretty enough, first-along."

"We'll give it a spell," said Cai, stooping and switching off the tune.
"I'm not musical myself; I'd as lief hear thunder, most days. But the
thing was well meant."

"Ay, an' no doubt we'll pick up a taste for it again--indoors of an
evenin', when the winter comes 'round."

"Tell ye what," suggested Cai. "To-morrow, I'll take it off to John
Peter and ask him to put a brass plate on the lid, with an inscription.
He's clever at such things, an' terrible dilatory. . . . An' to-night
Mrs Bowldler can have it in the kitchen. She dotes on it--'_I dreamt
that I dwelt_' in particular."

"Which," said Mrs Bowldler to Palmerston later on, as they sat drinking
in that ditty, one on either side of the kitchen table, "it can't sing,
but the words is that I dreamt I dwelt in Marble Halls with Princes and
Peers by my si-i-ide--just like that. Princes!" She leaned back in the
cheap chair and closed her eyes. "It goes through me to this day.
I used to sing it frequent in my 'teens, along with another popular
favourite which was quite at the other end of the social scale, but
artless--'My Mother said that I never should Play with the gypsies in
the wood. If I did, She would say, Tum tiddle, tum tiddle, tum-ti-tay'
--my memory is not what it was." Mrs Bowldler wiped her eyes.

"And did you?" asked Palmerston. "Tell me what happened."

Next morning, while the Church bells were ringing in Regatta Day,
Captain Cai tucked the musical box under his arm and called, on his way
to the Committee Ship, upon Mr John Peter Nanjulian (commonly "John
Peter" for short).

John Peter, an elderly man, dwelt with a yet more elderly sister, in an
old roomy house set eminently on the cliff-side above the roofs of the
Lower Town, approachable only by a pathway broken by flights of steps,
and known by the singular name of On the Wall.

The house had been a family mansion, and s