merriment (though
suggestive, rather, of seasick mutineers under hatches), and our
literary collector, Mr. Moggridge, was standing up to recite a trifle
of his own--"flung off"--as he explained, "not pruned or polished."

The hush in the drawing-room was almost painful--for in those days we
all admired Mr. Moggridge--as the poet tossed back a stray lock from
his forehead, flung an arm suddenly out at right angles to his
person, and began sepulchrally--

"Maiden"--

(Here he looked very hard at Miss Lavinia Limpenny.)

"Maiden, what dost thou in the chill churchyard
Beside yon grassy mound?
The night hath fallen, the rain is raining hard,
Damp is the ground."

Mrs. Buzza shivered, and began to weep quietly.

"Maiden, why claspest thou that cold, cold stone
Against thy straining breast?
Tell me, what dost thou at this hour alone?
(_Persuasively_) The lambs have gone to rest.
The maiden lifted up her tearful gaze,
And thus she made reply:
'My mother, sir, is--'"

But the secret of her conduct remains with Mr. Moggridge, for at this
moment the door opened, and the excited head of Sam Buzza, the
Admiral's only son, was thrust into the room.

[Illustration: "Maiden, what dost thou in the chill churchyard--"]

"I say, have you heard the news? 'The Bower' is let."

"What!"

All eyes were fixed on the newcomer. The Vicar woke up. Even the
poet, with his arm still at right angles and the verse arrested on
his lips, turned to stare incredulously.

"It's a fact; I heard it down at the _Man-o'-War_ Club meeting, you
know," he explained. "Goodwyn-Sandys is his name, the Honourable
Goodwyn-Sandys, brother to Lord Sinkport--and what's more, he is
coming by the mid-day train to-morrow."

The poet's arm dropped like a railway signal. There was a long
pause, and then the voices broke out all together--

"Only fancy!"

"There now!"

"'The Bower' let at last!"

"An Honourable, too!"

"What is he like?"

"Are you sure?"

"Well, I never did!"

"Miss Limpenny," gasped the Admiral, at length, "where is your
Burke?"

It lay between the "Cathedrals of England" and "Gems of Modern Art";
under the stereoscope. Miss Lavinia produced it.

"Let me see," said the Admiral, turning the pages. "Sinkport--
Sinkport--here we are--George St. Leonards Goodwyn-Sandys, fourth
baron--H'm, h'm, here it is--only brother, Frederic Augustus Hythe
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