We accordingly proceeded to the residence of the fair strangers, whom the admiral assured me had come to Halifax from mere curiosity, under the protection of their uncle and aunt.  We knocked at the door, and the admiral inquired if Mrs M’Flinn was at home; we were answered in the affirmative.  The servant asked our names.  “Vice Admiral Sir Hurricane Humbug,” said I, “and Mr Mildmay.”

The drawing-room door was thrown open, and the man gave our names with great propriety.  In we walked; a tall, grave-looking, elderly lady received us, standing bolt upright in the middle of the room; the young ladies were seated at their work.

“My dear Mrs M’Flinn,” said the admiral, “how do you do?  I am delighted to see you and your fair nieces looking so lovely this morning.”—­The lady bowed to this compliment—­a courtesy she was not quite up to—­“Allow me to introduce my gallant young friend, Mildmay—­young ladies, take care of your hearts—­he is a great rogue, I assure you, though he smiles so sweet upon you.”

Mrs M’Flinn bowed again to me, hoped I was very well, and inquired “how long I had been in these parts.”

I replied that I had just returned from a cruise, but that I was no stranger in Halifax.

“Come, officer,” said the admiral, taking me by the arm, “I see you are bashful—­I must make you acquainted with my pretty cousins.  This, Sir, is Miss M’Flinn—­her Christian name is Deliverance.  She is a young lady whose beauty is her least recommendation.”

“A very equivocal compliment,” thought I.

“This, Sir, is Miss Jemima; this is Miss Temperance; and this is Miss Deborah.  Now that you know them all by name, and they know you, I hope you will contrive to make yourself both useful and agreeable.”

“A very pretty sinecure,” thinks I to myself, “just as if I had not my hands full already.”  However, as I never wanted small talk for pretty faces, I began with Jemima.  They were all pretty, but she was a love—­yet there was an awkwardness about them that convinced me they were not of the bon ton of Philadelphia.  The answers to all my questions were quick, pert, and given with an air of assumed consequence; at the same time I observed a mode of expression which, though English, was not well-bred English.

“Did you come through the United States,” said I, “into the British territory, or did you come by water?”

“Oh, by water,” screamed all the girls at once, “and liked to have been eaten up with the nasty roaches.”

I did not exactly know what was meant by “roaches,” but it was explained to me soon after.  I inquired whether they had seen a British man-of-war, and whether they would like to accompany me on board of that which I belonged to?  They all screamed out at same moment—­

“No, we never have seen one, and should like to see it of all things.  When will you take us?”

“To-morrow,” said I, “if the day should prove fine.”