chck!" said Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn.

"Four olive-branches in five years!" cried Sir Peter, instinctively sidling away from the baby.

"Of the female sex," explained Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn: "all of the female sex. This is Number Four. Chck! chck!"

Mrs. Poskett, attracted by the baby, had hastily come out of her door carrying her cat, Sempronius, in her arms, and was beckoning to the maid.

"And another coming!" roared the Admiral. "That's right, Brooke! Do your duty, and damn the consequences!—But let's have a boy next time," he went on, heedless of Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn's frantic signals, "let 's have a boy, and make a sailor of him!—Gobblessmysoul!" For Mrs. Poskett, having dropped the cat in the garden, had come up to the tree, and was simpering with pretty modesty.