“Please, your honor, I have come to report and take orders about her.”
“What sort of a craft is she?”
“Please, your honor, a small craft, tight-built, trim-rigged, fast sailing in favorable weather, I should think, though now rather the worse for the wear and tear of winds and waves.”
“Well, haul her up along side, and let’s have a look at her,” commanded the admiral.
“Ay, ay, sir!” said Jerry, hastening to obey.
“Whatever does he mean? I never can understand that man, any more than if he spoke in Hebrew,” said Mrs. Brunton.
“Hang the fellow! he always mistakes the drawing-room for the quarter-deck,” said the admiral, laughing. “He means that a young person has been caught out by the storm, and driven in here for shelter.”
“But you will never bring a stranger into this room, Iry?”
“Certainly, if Madame Pezzilini has no objection.”
“Oh, certainly not,” replied the princess, with a suave courtesy.