l of honor man appeared, to the
editor of one of these journals, to entitle the dead sailor to three
hundred words of posthumous publicity. Subsequently, these three
hundred words came under the eye of a retired admiral of the United
States Navy, who thereby became aware that he had an orphaned
grand-daughter residing in Port Agnew, Washington.

As a man grows old he grows kindlier; those things which, at middle
age, appear so necessary to an unruffled existence, frequently undergo
such a metamorphosis, due to the corroding effects of time, that at
eighty one has either forgotten them or regards them as something to
be secretly ashamed of. Thus it was with Nan's grandfather. His pride
and dignity were as austere as ever, but his withered heart yearned
for the love and companionship of one of his own blood; now that Caleb
Brent was dead, the ancient martinet forgot the offense which this
simple sailor had committed against the pride of a long line of
distinguished gentlemen, members of the honorable profession of arms.
He thought it over for a month, and then wrote the only child of his
dead daughter, asking her to come to him, hinting broadly that his
days in the land were nearly numbered and that, in the matter of
worldly goods he was not exactly a pauper.

Having posted this letter the old admiral waited patiently for an
answer, and when this answer was not forthcoming within the time he
had set, he had telegraphed the postmaster of Port Agnew, requesting
information as to her address. This telegram the postmaster had
promptly sent over to Nan and it was for the purpose of replying to it
that she had gone to the telegraph office on the day when Fate decreed
that Jane and Elizabeth McKaye should also be there.

After her return to the Sawdust Pile that day Nan's thoughts
frequently adverted to the Biblical line: "The Lord giveth and the
Lord taketh away." Certainly, in her case, He appeared to be working
at cross purposes. At a time when she had resigned herself to domestic
labor in order to avoid starvation, her aristocratic, arrogant,
prideful grandfather had seen fit to forgive her dead father and offer
her shelter from the buffets of the world; yet, even while striving,
apparently to be kind, she knew that the reason underlying his
invitation was plain, old-fashioned heart-hunger, a tender conscience
and a generous admixture of human selfishness. She smiled bitterly at
his blunt hint of a monetary reward followi