"Would you like to come in," she said, "and see the place? It is rather
a curious place."

We thanked the young lady, and said we didn't wish to be troublesome;
but, she said it could be no trouble to an English soldier's daughter, to
show English soldiers how their countrymen and country-women fared, so
far away from England; and consequently we saluted again, and went in.
Then, as we stood in the shade, she showed us (being as affable as
beautiful), how the different families lived in their separate houses,
and how there was a general house for stores, and a general reading-room,
and a general room for music and dancing, and a room for Church; and how
there were other houses on the rising ground called the Signal Hill,
where they lived in the hotter weather.

"Your officer has been carried up there," she said, "and my brother, too,
for the better air. At present, our few residents are dispersed over
both spots: deducting, that is to say, such of our number as are always
going to, or coming from, or staying at, the Mine."

("_He_ is among one of those parties," I thought, "and I wish somebody
would knock his head off.")

"Some of our married ladies live here," she said, "during at least half
the year, as lonely as widows, with their children."

"Many children here, ma'am?"

"Seventeen. There are thirteen married ladies, and there are eight like
me."