people of extreme
refinement. Sophy, how badly your gown sits."

"Why, it was only yesterday, papa, that you praised it so!"

"Did I? H'm! Well, well, now for the boat."

"The boat, papa?"

"Certainly, Sophy; we are going to call at Kit's House."

CHAPTER VIII.

HOW A CREW, THAT WOULD SAIL ON A WASHING-DAY, WAS SHIPWRECKED: WITH
AN ADVERTISEMENT AGAINST WOMEN.

It was a bright April morning, and the Admiral's boat, as it swept
proudly past the little town, cast a wealth of bright reflection on
the water. Inhabitants of Troy, sitting at their windows, and
overlooking the harbour, caught sight of the yellow dresses, the blue
coat with its gold lace, and the red face beneath the cocked-hat, and
whispered to each other that something was in the wind.

Jane and Calypso rowed--for the Trojan maidens in those days were not
above pulling an oar, and did not mind blisters--while Sophia sat in
the bows, her mushroom hat "a world too wide" for the little green
parasol hoisted above it. The Admiral himself held the tiller ropes,
and occasionally gave a word of command. It was a gracious
spectacle.

But as the boat drew clear of the jetties with their press of
vessels, and Kit's Cottage hove in sight, the Admiral's eyes, which
were fixed ahead, grew suddenly very large and round.

"This is very extraordinary!" he muttered, "very extraordinary
indeed!"

"What is it, papa?" and the three Misses Buzza simultaneously turned
their mushroom hats to look.

"I cannot tell, Sophia; but to me it appears as if these people
were--not to put too fine a point upon it--washing."

It was quite true. On the little beach, Mr. Fogo, with his sleeves
turned up and a large apron pinned around him, was standing before a
huge tub, industriously washing. The tub rested on a couple of
stools. A little to the left, Caleb Trotter, with his back turned to
the river, was wringing the articles of male costume which his master
handed him, and disposing them about the shingle to dry.

[Illustration: Washing day.]

The Admiral had chosen a washing-day for his first call at Kit's
House.

The approach of the boat was at first unperceived; for Caleb, as I
said, had his back turned to it, and Mr. Fogo's spectacles were bent
over his employment.

"Really," murmured the Admiral, as his eye travelled over the beach,
"anything more indelicate--Why, Miss Limpenny might be rowing this
way for anything they know. Hi, sir!"

Sti