to him as its natural leader and adviser. None of the inhabitants would ever dream of making any little improvements to their houses without having first consulted the Admiral. It was he who determined when the lawn needed mowing, the Gazebo trimming, and it was he who fixed the date for painting the wood-work and railings of the houses. Also, he chose the colour: a good, useful green; and anyone who had dared depart from the precise shade chosen by him, would have heard of it. He was to all intents and purposes an autocrat, and the Walk trembled at his nod. His rule was very gentle, however. He kept his one remaining eye steadily fixed on the Walk; but although it wore a threatening frown and could flash in fury, the expression lurking in its depth was one of affection. He loved the Walk with all his heart; he was proud of it with all his soul. His one ambition was to keep it as spick and span as his own quarterdeck had been. I think, indeed, he confused it in his mind to some extent with that quarterdeck, for in his little garden he had erected the model of a mast, on which he hoisted the Union Jack with his own hands regularly at sunrise, and as regularly struck it at sunset. And once, when the Regent had gone by in the Royal barge on his way to Richmond, he had come out in gala uniform, and dipped it in a Royal salute in the finest style. The Admiral was salt from head to foot and right through. He used to call himself a piece of salt junk: for he had been at sea ever since he was a lad of ten. His bravery and high spirits had cleared the road for him at a time when the sea was a path of glory for British mariners, and his culminating recollection was the battle of Copenhagen, in which he had taken part with Nelson. His only cause for complaint was that he had been put on half-pay too early. Was not a man of sixty, hale, hearty, and in the full possession of all his faculties, worth two whipper-snappers of thirty? And did the loss of an eye disqualify him? Could he not spy the enemy as quickly with one eye as with two? As a matter of fact, you could only use one eye with a spy-glass, and so, what was the good of the other? Answer him that! Very well, then.

But these outbursts only came in moments of great depression; generally after his monthly excursion into town to draw his pay. On these occasions it was his habit to visit the coffee-houses where sea-captains of his own standing congregated; in the afternoon he would dine with a few cronies at the Hummums; later, he might take a taste of the newest play at Covent Garden—he maintained that the Drama, like the Navy, was going to the dogs—and after the play there usually followed a jorum of punch and a church-warden pipe in some hostelry where glees were sung. Then, in the small hours, he would be lifted into an old, ramshackle shay, by the faithful Jim; Jim would be lifted beside him, and together they would steer a devious course towards Chiswick, where the village constable was on the look-out for them, and would pilot them along the perilous Creek, unlock the door for them, and deposit them safely in the passage. What happened after that, which saw the other to bed, or whether either of them ever got beyond the foot of the stairs, it were the height of indiscretion to enquire. An English gentleman's house is his castle, and if an English gentleman is too tired to go upstairs that is nobody's business but his own.

The Walk was always aware of these excursions, and on the mornings following upon them it had become the rule to make as little noise as possible, so as not to disturb the Admiral's repose. When he ultimately woke on such mornings it was small wonder he took a jaundiced view of life, prophesied the immediate stranding of His Majesty's entire Fleet owing to puerile navigation, and was, generally, in his least amiable and least hopeful mood. Small wonder, also, that he railed against a purblind and imbecile government for putting a seasoned officer on the shelf. A headache modifies one's outlook, and, as Mrs. Poskett was fond of saying, one should be especially considerate with a man, more especially a sailor-man, the day after he had drawn his pay—most especially a sailor-man who, at the mature age of sixty, was still a bachelor.

If Sir Peter was a bachelor, that was not Mrs. Poskett's fault. She herself had only narrowly missed belonging to the minor nobility. Alderman Poskett, her deceased husband, had died just as he was ripe for the Shrievalty, and, sure enough, the year he would have been Sheriff the King had dined with the Lord Mayor, and Poskett would infallibly have received a knighthood, had he been alive. Mrs. Poskett felt, in a confused way, that she had been badly used, and that the Walk would only be stretching ordinary courtesy very slightly by addressing her as Lady Poskett. Unfortunately this never occurred to the Walk, and as Mrs. Poskett was determined to achieve the title somehow, she had cast her eyes on Sir Peter. The latter, however, had not been a handsome midshipman, and a still handsomer Captain, without acquiring considerable experience in the wiles of the sex, and, so far, Mrs. Poskett's blandishments had met with only negative success. Mrs. Poskett lived next door to the Admiral, and to her great distress there was a sort of subdued feud between them; a feud she could do nothing to abate. Could she be expected to get rid of Sempronius, for the sake of Sir Peter? In the first place, it is not so easy to get rid of a long-haired, yellow Persian cat. Once, in a fit of desperation at the failure of her siege on the Admiral's affections, she had put Sempronius in a market-basket, and she and Abigail—her little maid, fresh from a Charity School—had carried him quite half a mile and let him loose, after a tragic farewell, in the middle of a cabbage-field. But when they got home disconsolate, there was Sempronius washing his face in front of the fire as if nothing had happened. After that there was never again any question of getting rid of him. If the Admiral really feared for the safety of his thrush, why did n't he get rid of the thrush? Only once had Sempronius been found sitting on the roof of the osier cage, and extending a soft paw downwards through its bars; the thrush was singing blithely all the time, and you could see by the expression on Sempronius's face that his only feeling was one of admiration for the song. But the Admiral had taken on amazingly, had stormed and sworn, and promised to throw Sempronius into the river if he ever caught him at such games again.

Since that day Mrs. Poskett had felt that she had a very uphill task before her; but she had set herself to work to become Lady Antrobus with increased determination. She was heartily encouraged in this by Miss Ruth Pennymint, who lived in the third house from the top corner—lived there with her much younger sister, Miss Barbara.

Miss Ruth, elderly and kind hearted, was an inveterate matchmaker. As she explained to her bosom friend, Mrs. Brooke-Hoskyn, "My dear," she said, "I've lived three years with a tragic instance of what comes of blighted affections; and I'll take precious good care nobody else's affections get blighted if I can help it." To which Mrs. Brooke-Hoskyn replied, "And well I understand your meaning, Ruth; for if Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn had n't asked me to marry him, what I should ha' done I don't know." Whereupon the two ladies, for no obvious reason, wept together and were greatly comforted.

It seems that Miss Barbara had years ago been more or less affianced to a Lieutenant in the Navy. Not a young lieutenant, an elderly lieutenant with several characteristics which were doubtful recommendations. But time had softened the image of the gallant tar in Miss Barbara's recollection, and the more it receded, the more romantic it had become, until now she was, not so much in love with her recollections of him, as with