There is to my mind a flavour in the conceit--a bravado lifting the action above mere intrepidity into actual greatness.
Nor in this little Iliad are there many figures that I regard with more affection than that of Admiral Buzza at his garden gate waiting for Mrs.Snell.
When at length she issued from "The Bower" and came down the road, the effect of the gold lace was rather striking.

She dropped her bundle and her lower jaw together.
"Lawks, sir! how you did frighten me, to be sure! I thought it was the devil!" This was hardly what the Admiral had expected.

He beckoned with his forefinger mysteriously.

Mrs.Snell advanced as though not quite sure that her first fright was unfounded.
"Mrs.Snell," inquired the Admiral, in a whisper, "what are they like ?" He pointed melodramatically towards "The Bower" as he asked the question.
Again the unexpected happened.

Mrs.Snell burst into loud and hysterical sobbing.
"Don't 'ee, sir! don't 'ee! I can't abear it.