" and the sob came surely now, in
Dan's bewildered joy, his gratitude, his relief. "How good you are,--how
good you are! Oh, I will try to deserve it all, Miss Stella! A home for
Aunt Winnie, and St. Andrew's,--_St. Andrew's_ again!" And Dan sprang to
his feet, and the college cry went ringing over the moonlit rocks. "It's
St. Andrew's for Dan Dolan, now forever!"

The rest of that evening seemed a bewildering dream to Dan,--more
bewildering even than Miss Polly's party. The story of his medal and his
luck went flying around Killykinick, with most dazzling additions. Before
the guests departed, Dan was a hero indeed, adopted by a millionaire whose
life his father or uncle or somebody had saved from sharks and whales
fifty or seventy-five years ago.

"Oh, I'm so glad!" said Polly, as she shook hands for good-bye. "I always
did say you were the nicest boy in the world. And now you needn't ever be
a newsboy or bootblack again, Dan."

"I'll see you again before very long," said Miss Stella, as he helped her
on the boat, and she slipped a gold piece in his hand. "Here is the price
of Jack Farley's medal. You must take Aunt Winnie home right away."

"Oh, I will,--I will, indeed!" said Dan joyfully. "She will be back in
Mulligan's as soon as I can get her there, you bet, Miss Stella!"

"I'm durn sorry to see you go, matey!" said Captain Jeb next morning, as
they pulled out the new sails of the "Sary Ann" for a start. "But whenever
you want a whiff of salt air and a plunge in salt water, why, Killykinick
is here and your job of second mate open to you."

"Shake on that!" said Dan, gripping his old friend's hand. "If I know
myself, I'll be down every summer."

"Looks as if I owed you something for all that fishing," remarked old Neb,
pulling out his leather wallet.

"Not a cent!" said Dan, briskly. "I'm a monied man now, Neb,--a regular
up-and-down plute. Keep the cash for some new nets next summer when we go
fishing again."

And so, with friendly words and wishes from all, even from Dud, whom
recent events had quite knocked out of his usual grandeur, the whole party
bade adieu to Killykinick. Freddy and his father were to remain a while at
Beach Cliff with Father Tom, who was taking his holiday there.

At Brother Bart's request, the home journey was to be made as much as
possible by rail, so after the "Sary Ann," still a little stiff and creaky
in the joints, had borne them to the steamboat, which in a few hours
touc