only
chattered at him in defiance."

"And well they might. Why, my dear, would you believe it, he had no
powder in his gun! Now, Mrs. Lyndsay, you will perhaps think that I am
telling you a story, the thing is so absurd; yet I assure you that it's
strictly true. But you know the man. When my poor Nelly died, she left
all her little property to her father, as she knew none of her late
husband's relations--never was introduced to one of them in her life. In
her dressing-case he found a box of charcoal for cleaning teeth, and in
spite of all that I could say or do, he insisted that it was
_gunpowder_. 'Gunpowder!' says I, 'what would our Nelly do with
gunpowder? It's charcoal, I tell you.'"

"Then he smelt it, and smelt it--''Tis gunpowder, Sally! Don't you
think, that I know the smell of gunpowder? I, that was with Nelson at
Copenhagen and Trafalgar?'

"''Tis the snuff in your nose, that makes everything smell alike;'
says I. 'Do you think, that our Nelly would clean her beautiful white
teeth with gunpowder?'

"'Why not?' says he; 'there's charcoal in gunpowder. And now, Madam,
if you dare to contradict me again, I will shoot you with it, to prove
the truth of what I say!'

"Well, after that, I held my tongue, though I did not choose to give
up. I thought to spite him, so for once I let him have his own way. He
spent an hour last night cleaning his old rusty gun; and rose this
morning by daybreak with the intention of murdering all the sparrows. No
wonder that the sparrows laughed at him. I have done nothing but laugh
ever since--so out of sheer revenge, he proclaimed a cleaning day; and
he and Kelly are now hard at it."

Flora was delighted with this anecdote of their whimsical landlord; but
before she could answer his better-half, the door was suddenly opened
and the sharp, keen face of the little officer was thrust into the
room.

CHAPTER III.

THE OLD CAPTAIN IN PERSON.

"Mrs. Lyndsay, my dear; that nurse of yours is going to hang out your
clothes in front of the sea. Now, it's hardly _decent_ of her, to expose
female garments to every boat that may be passing."

The Captain's delicacy threw poor Flora nearly into convulsions of
laughter--while he continued, rather pettishly--

"She knows no more how to handle a rope than a pig. If you will just
tell her to wait a bit, until I have overhauled my vessel, I will put up
the ropes for you myself."

"And hang out the clothes for you, Mrs. Lyndsay,