"But when you write, you may thank her all the same. Mrs. Fairbank means it kindly, and if I thought old Nap would come in truth—but 'tis all bluster and empty boasting. For my part, I put no sort of belief in any invasion of our shores. But you may inform her that I am sincerely grateful; and that, should occasion arise, I will not fail to avail myself of her hospitality."
Then Mrs. Bryce turned to her own letter.
"From my cousin in Norfolk. And if you'll believe it, Polly, they're all in a bustle and a fright there too, lest Nap should land first on the eastern coast. He'll have enough on hand, if he's to go everywhere that's expected of him. And if he goes there, they'll get them away into the fen country, where 'tis thought the French soldiers won't be able to follow."
Before Polly could reply, Jack walked in, and with him a young man, Albert Peirce by name, nephew to the Admiral, and subaltern in one of the Shorncliffe regiments.
Introductions followed, and Polly bestowed one of her most graceful curtseys upon the newcomer. No doubt Polly liked to be admired, as was natural in so pretty a girl; and she read instant appreciation of her charms in Mr. Peirce's face. So she did her best to be agreeable to him during the next two hours, and she seemed to be in very good spirits. Whether those spirits remained equally good after she had disappeared for the night, she alone could know.
Early the next morning, Polly was roused by agitated sounds.
"Polly! Polly! Wake up this instant, Polly! I vow and protest, the child is crazed! Wake up, Polly! Polly, do you hear—they're coming!"
Polly roused herself with great deliberation. Though lively enough at night, she was a heavy sleeper in the morning; and she dragged herself to a sitting posture, with half-shut eyes and loosely hanging hair, looking, it must be conceded, not quite so lovely as was her wont.
"Must I get up already, ma'am? 'Tis early."
"Get up! And already! 'Tis time you bestirred yourself in good earnest! Polly, they're coming! They're on their way hither."