o tell him that mother was dead and buried, and
none of them would ever see her again, Meg's eyes were blinded with
tears, and hiding her face in the baby's neck, she cried, whether for
joy or sorrow she could hardly tell; until Robin broke out into a loud
wail of distress and terror, which echoed noisily under the low vault
of the archway.

Little Meg roused herself at the sound of Robin's cry, and taking his
hand in hers, with the baby upon her arm, she loitered about the
entrance to the dockyard, till a good-tempered looking burly man came
near to them. Meg planted herself bravely in his way, and looked up
wistfully into his red face.

'Please, sir,' she said, 'could you tell me if father's ship's come in
yet?'

'Father's ship!' repeated the man in a kindly voice. 'Why, what's the
name of father's ship?'

'The Ocean King,' said Meg, trembling.

'It's in the river, my little lass,' he said, 'but it won't be in dock
till night. Father can't be at home afore to-morrow morning at the
soonest.'

'Thank you kindly, sir,' answered Meg, her voice faltering with her
great joy. Her task was ended, then. To-morrow she would give up the
key of the box with its secret treasure, which she hardly dared to
think about, and then she could feel like a child once more. She did
feel almost as gay as Robin who was pattering and stamping proudly
along in his shoes, and in the consciousness that it was his birthday.
Nobody else had such a thing as a birthday, so far as he knew;
certainly none of his acquaintances in Angel Court, not even Meg
herself, for Meg's birthday was lost in the depth of the ten years
which had passed over her head. He scarcely knew what it was, for he
could neither see it nor touch it; but he had it, for Meg told him so,
and it made him feel glad and proud. It was a bright, warm, sunny
autumn day, with enough freshness in the breeze coming off the unseen
river to make the air sweet and reviving; for Meg was skirting about
the more open streets, without venturing to pass through the closer and
dirtier alleys.

'Robbie,' she said after a time, when they had come to a halt upon the
steps of a dwelling-house, 'Robbie, I'll give you a treat to-day,
because it's your birthday. We'll not go home till it's dark; and I'll
take you to see Temple Gardens.'

'What are Temple Gardens?' demanded Robin, his eyes eager for an answer.

'Oh, you'll see,' said Meg, not quite able to explain herself. 'I went
ther