"Ye gods and little fishes . . ."

and full of the quaintest conceits. For seven days, from dawn to
nightfall, the river off Kit's House was crowded with boat-loads of
curious gazers, and the Steam-Tug Company (Limited) neglected its
serious business to run special excursions to the scene of the
catastrophe.

The Trojan maidens especially would stare at the Notice by the
half-hour (that being the time allowed by the Steam-Tug Company), and
hope, with much blushing and giggling, to catch a glimpse of Mr.
Fogo. But the hermit remained steadily indoors.

Meanwhile the Admiral sulked in bed, and nursed his ill-humour.
On Tuesday he was strangely softened and quiet; but:--

On Wednesday he recovered, and began to bully his wife as fiercely as
ever.

On Thursday he broke the bell-rope again, and the servant gave
warning.

On Friday he threatened to make his will, and refused his food.

On Saturday he was still fasting.

On Sunday he ate voraciously, drank four glasses of grog, and threw
the wash-hand basin out of window.