rn hemisphere,"
she added, proud of her knowledge. "So it was very fine weather. And Mr.
Juxon was walking up and down the deck in the afternoon, smoking a
cigar--"

"He never smokes, dear," interrupted Mrs. Goddard, glad to show Nellie
that she was listening.

"Well, but he did then, because he said so," returned Nellie unmoved.
"And as he walked and looked out--sailors always look out, you know--he
saw the most wonderful thing, close to the ship--the most wonderful thing
he ever saw," added Nellie with some redundance of expression.

"Was it a whale, child?" asked her mother, staring into the fire and
trying to pay attention.

"A whale, mamma!" repeated Nellie contemptuously. "As if there were
anything remarkable about a whale! Mr. Juxon has seen billions of whales,
I am sure."

"Well, what was it, dear?"

"It was the most awfully tremendous thing with green and blue scales, a
thousand times as big as the ship--oh mamma! What was that?"

Nellie started up from her stool and knelt beside her mother, looking
towards the window. Mrs. Goddard was deathly pale and grasped the arm of
her chair.

"Somebody knocked at the window, mamma," said Nellie breathlessly. "And
then somebody said 'Mary'--quite loud. Oh mamma, what can it be?"

"Mary?" repeated Mrs. Goddard as though she were in a dream.

"Yes--quite loud. Oh mamma! it must be Mary's young man--he does
sometimes come in the evening."

"Mary's young man, child?" Mrs. Goddard's heart leaped. Her cook's name
was Mary, as well as her own. Nellie naturally never associated the name
with her mother, as she never heard anybody call her by it.

"Yes mamma. Don't you know? The postman--the man with the piebald horse."
The explanation was necessary, as Mrs. Goddard rarely received any
letters and probably did not know the postman by sight.

"At this time of night!" exclaimed Mrs. Goddard. "It is too bad. Mary is
gone to bed."

"Perhaps he thinks you are gone to the vicarage and that Mary is sitting
up for you in the drawing-room," suggested Nellie with much good sense.
"Well, he can't come in, can he, mamma?"

"Certainly not," said her mother. "But I think you had much better go to
bed, my dear. It is half-past nine." She spoke indistinctly, almost
thickly, and seemed to be making a violent effort to control herself. But
Nellie had settled down upon her stool again, and did not notice her
mother.

"Oh not yet," said she. "I have not nearly finished about the