"Oh, they will come back; of course they will come back," Polly assured her again and again. "Napoleon couldn't keep them always, Molly dear. It would be too cruel. We shall have them back by-and-by; perhaps very soon. Ah—here comes somebody; and we shall hear more about what it all means."
As Jack's face appeared, a cry broke from Molly. "Jack—oh, it is Jack. Jack will tell us."
Jack was speedily down by her side, comforting her. She was small and childish for her twelve years, and he felt himself older unspeakably, besides being exactly like her brother; so she cried quietly, leaning her face against his scarlet coat, while he whispered hopeful foretellings.
"This is truly a doleful state of things, ma'am," the Admiral observed, turning his attention first, as in duty bound, to the elder lady. "Who could have thought it? Dear, dear me; 'tis prodigiously sad. I vow there was never such a being as this First Consul since the world was created. But cheer up, ma'am, and pretty Polly too. Things will come right in time, there's no sort of doubt."
"'Tis a puzzle to us all," pretty Polly remarked, more anxious for precise information than for general abuse of Napoleon, however well deserved. "Is Colonel Baron indeed a prisoner? And Mrs. Baron and Roy? And—Captain Ivor?"
"Nay; not altogether so bad as that. The First Consul may be but a few degrees removed from a fiend, 'tis true; yet even he does not war with women and school-boys. Mrs. Baron is surely free to return when she will, and to bring Roy with her. 'Tis Colonel Baron and Captain Ivor who are to be accounted prisoners of war! An atrocious deed! But being both in His Majesty's Army, they have, I fear, no chance of getting off. Cheer up!" as Polly's tears began to flow. "'Tis but for a while. Just one of the chances of war; though 'tis a mighty shame it should be so, with harmless and innocent travellers, taking their pleasure abroad. But our Government will protest; and it may be Boney will think better of what he has done. Eh, Jack?"
"It says, Admiral—it says, my dear Jack——" Mrs. Fairbank knitted furiously as she spoke—"it says, in that most iniquitous paper——"
"Right, right!" nodded the Admiral. "The paper in truth is iniquitous!"
"That"—pursued Mrs. Fairbank, getting unexpectedly choky, and dropping stitches by the bushel, as her eyes fell on the pitiful faces of Polly and Molly—"that 'all the English, from the age of eighteen to sixty'—all—not men only!"
"Nay, nay, nay; it signifies men only, not women. None but savages fight against women," declared the Admiral, with vigour. "They will be right enough, my dear madam. 'Tis only the Colonel and the Captain who are included."