No one was ever able to discover whether there was not a slight tinge of underlying jocularity in this remark of Mrs. Brand, for she was a strange and incomprehensible mixture of shrewdness and innocence; but no one took much trouble to find out, for she was so lovable that people accepted her just as she was, contented to let any small amount of mystery that seemed to be in her to remain unquestioned.

“The parlour” was one of those well-known rooms which are occasionally met with in country cottages, the inmates of which are not wealthy.  It was reserved exclusively for the purpose of receiving visitors.  The furniture, though old, threadbare, and dilapidated, was kept scrupulously clean, and arranged symmetrically.  There were a few books on the table, which were always placed with mathematical exactitude, and a set of chairs, so placed as to give one mysteriously the impression that they were not meant to be sat upon.  There was also a grate, which never had a fire in it, and was never without a paper ornament in it, the pink and white aspect of which caused one involuntarily to shudder.

But the great point, which was meant to afford the highest gratification to the beholder, was the chimney-piece.  This spot was crowded to excess in every square inch of its area with ornaments, chiefly of earthenware, miscalled china, and shells.  There were great white shells with pink interiors, and small brown shells with spotted backs.  Then there were china cups and saucers, and china shepherds and shepherdesses, represented in the act of contemplating the heavens serenely, with their arms round each other’s waists.  There were also china dogs and cats, and a huge china cockatoo as a centre-piece; but there was not a single spot the size of a sixpence on which the captain could place his pipe or his tobacco-box!

“We’ll get these things cleared away,” said Minnie, with a laugh, on observing the perplexed look with which the captain surveyed the chimney-piece, while the changes above referred to were being made in the parlour; “we have no place ready to receive them just now, but I’ll have them all put away to-morrow.”

“Thank’ee, lass,” said the captain, as he set down the sea-chest and seated himself thereon; “they’re pretty enough to look at, d’ye see, but they’re raither in the way just now, as my second mate once said of the rocks when we were cruising off the coast of Norway in search of a pilot.”

The ornaments were, however, removed sooner than anyone had anticipated.  The next trip that the captain made was for his hammock (he always slept in one), which was a long unwieldy bundle, like a gigantic bolster.  He carried it into the parlour on his shoulder, and Minnie followed him.

“Where shall I sling it, lass?”

“Here, perhaps,” said Minnie.

The captain wheeled round as she spoke, and the end of the hammock swept the mantelpiece of all its ornaments, as completely as if the besom of destruction had passed over it.