hout a glass," he tried eagerly to
console her. "All ready an' willin' to do their part for you, so as
you could let 'Lisha go off and have his chance."

"I don't know how it is," she answered, "but none on 'em never give me
the rooted home feelin' that 'Lisha has. They was more varyin' and
kind o' fast growin' and scatterin'; but 'Lisha was always 'Lisha when
he was a babe, and I settled on him for the one to keep with me."

"Then he's just the kind to send off, one you ain't got to worry
about. They're all good child'n," said the man. "We've reason to be
thankful none on 'em's been like some young sprigs, more grief 'n
glory to their folks. An' I ain't regrettin' 'Lisha's goin' one mite;
I believe you'd rather go on doin' for him an' cossetin'. I think 't
was high time to shove him out o' the nest."

"You ain't his mother," said Lucy Ann.

"What be you goin' to give him for his breakfast?" asked the stern
grandfather, in a softened, less business-like voice.

"I don't know's I'd thought about it, special, sir. I did lay aside
that piece o' apple pie we had left yisterday from dinner," she
confessed.

"Fry him out a nice little crisp piece o' pork, Lucy Ann, an' 't will
relish with his baked potatoes. He'll think o' his breakfast more
times 'n you expect. I know a lad's feelin's when home's put behind
him."

The sun was up clear and bright over the broad sea inlet to the
eastward, but the shining water struck the eye by its look of vacancy.
It was broad daylight, and still so early that no sails came stealing
out from the farmhouse landings, or even from the gray groups of
battered fish-houses that overhung, here and there, a sheltered cove.
Some crows and gulls were busy in the air; it was the time of day when
the world belongs more to birds than to men.

"Poor 'Lisha!" the mother went on compassionately. "I expect it has
been a long night to him. He seemed to take it in, as he was goin' to
bed, how 't was his last night to home. I heard him thrashin' about
kind o' restless, sometimes."

"Come, Lucy Ann, the boy ought to be stirrin'!" exclaimed the old
sailor, without the least show of sympathy. "He's got to be ready when
John Sykes comes, an' he ain't so quick as some lads."

The mother rose with a sigh, and went into the house. After her own
sleepless night, she dreaded to face the regretful, sleepless eyes of
her son; but as she opened the door of his little bedroom, there lay
Elisha sound asleep and c