On reaching the ground-floor she was met by a weather-beaten old man, who stopped and stared at her with an appearance of great interest.  He was the same old man whom Captain Wragge had seen in the backyard at St. Crux, at work on the model of a ship.  All round the neighborhood he was known, far and wide, as “the admiral’s coxswain.”  His name was Mazey.  Sixty years had written their story of hard work at sea, and hard drinking on shore, on the veteran’s grim and wrinkled face.  Sixty years had proved his fidelity, and had brought his battered old carcass, at the end of the voyage, into port in his master’s house.

Seeing no one else of whom she could inquire, Magdalen requested the old man to show her the way that led to the housekeeper’s room.

“I’ll show you, my dear,” said old Mazey, speaking in the high and hollow voice peculiar to the deaf.  “You’re the new maid—­eh?  And a fine-grown girl, too!  His honor, the admiral, likes a parlor-maid with a clean run fore and aft.  You’ll do, my dear—­you’ll do.”

“You must not mind what Mr. Mazey says to you,” remarked t he housekeeper, opening her door as the old sailor expressed his approval of Magdalen in these terms.  “He is privileged to t alk as he pleases; and he is very tiresome and slovenly in his habits; but he means no harm.”

With that apology for the veteran, Mrs. Drake led Magdalen first to the pantry, and next to the linen-room, installing her, with all due formality, in her own domestic dominions.  This ceremony completed, the new parlor-maid was taken upstairs, and was shown the dining-room, which opened out of the corridor on the first floor.  Here she was directed to lay the cloth, and to prepare the table for one person only—­Mr. George Bartram not having returned with his uncle to St. Crux.  Mrs. Drake’s sharp eyes watched Magdalen attentively as she performed this introductory duty; and Mrs. Drake’s private convictions, when the table was spread, forced her to acknowledge, so far, that the new servant thoroughly understood her work.

An hour later the soup-tureen was placed on the table; and Magdalen stood alone behind the admiral’s empty chair, waiting her master’s first inspection of her when he entered the dining-room.

A large bell rang in the lower regions—­quick, shambling footsteps pattered on the stone corridor outside—­the door opened suddenly—­and a tall lean yellow old man, sharp as to his eyes, shrewd as to his lips, fussily restless as to all his movements, entered the room, with two huge Labrador dogs at his heels, and took his seat in a violent hurry.  The dogs followed him, and placed themselves, with the utmost gravity and composure, one on each side of his chair.  This was Admiral Bartram, and these were the companions of his solitary meal.