"Dear aunt Polly, how glad I shall be to see her again!" "Oh, indeed! But, who is aunt Polly ?" Really, he was a most inquisitive old gentleman! The children, however, did not seem to notice this; and went on to tell how their aunt Polly was the dearest aunt they believed any one ever had, and the nicest.
They informed the old gentleman, likewise, that this loved aunt of theirs came up to town every year regularly at Christmas-time to pay them a visit; although they, on their part, had never been able to go down to see her until now, something or other having always happened to prevent their proceeding to the sea.
"Well, better late than never," said their fellow-traveller, whom Bob and Nellie began to look upon now quite as an old acquaintance--"I've no doubt you'll enjoy yourselves.

But, my dears, you haven't mentioned your aunt's name--her surname, I mean.

Perhaps I might know her, for I'm an old resident of Portsmouth, or rather Southsea, which is just outside the lines and where all the best people live now." "Mrs Gilmour, sir," replied Nellie.

"That's aunt Polly's name." "What, Polly Gilmour, the widow of my old shipmate Ted Gilmour, who commanded the _Bucephalus_ on the West Coast for two commissions and died of fever in the Bight of Benin?
Bless my soul, who'd have thought it!" "Yes, sir, Uncle Gilmour was in the Navy," put in Bob as if to corroborate the surmise of the old gentleman.

"He was Captain Gilmour, sir." His questioner, though, appeared for the moment lost in thought, his mind evidently occupied with a flood of old memories connected with his lost friend and their life afloat together.
"Dear, dear, who'd have thought it!" he repeated, as if speaking to himself.