king to me as to the family."

"Eleganter, Mistress Blum--eleganter," is the emphatic response; "but
not when a chap's troubled--'t ain't in the order o' things. A cove
can't pray grammatic and expect to be heard, can he? But, as I was
sayin', there's been stormy times off the coast for the past three days.
That boy ought t' have been kept at home. Gone to find out? Humph!
Where's the use? S'pose when them two mites was throwed out from the
sinkin' ship I'd 'a' waited to find out which babies they were; no, I
ketched 'em fur what they was. Where's the use findin' out? There
_ain't_ no use in it. I'm an old sailor, but somehow I'm skeery as a
lass to-night. I've kind o' lost my moorin's."

"Lost what, Mr. Jack?" said Lydia, with a start.

"My moorin's. It seems to me somehow's that lad'll never come to land."

"Mercy on us, Jack!" cried Lydia, in dismay. "What on earth makes you
say a thing like that?"

"'Cos I'm lonesome. I'm upset," said Jack, rising gloomily, "an' that's
all there is about it. An' there's that wall-eyed McSwiver--"

"Mr. Jack," exclaimed Lydia, suddenly, "you're not talking plain and
honest with me. There's something else on your mind."

"An' so there is, Mistress Lydia; an' I may as well out with it. Ken you
pictur' to yourself a craft tossed about on the sea, with no cap'ain nor
compass nor steerin' gear nor nothin',--the whole thing clean adrift,
an' no anchor to hold it from a-driftin' furder? Well, I'm that craft. I
want some one to tow me into smooth waters, and then sail alongside
allers--somebody kind and sensible and good. Now do you take the idee?"

[Illustration]

Lydia thought she did, but she was not quite sure; and as we cannot wait
to hear the thrilling conversation that followed, we will steal up
stairs again, to hear the pleasant "good-night" often repeated while
Uncle, at the study door, waves his hand blithely to the pretty
procession of two mounting to the sleeping-room above.

Later, while the girls are whispering together in Dorry's cosey corner,
Mr. Reed writes the long letter to Eben Slade, which tells him that he
may now come on with "legal actions" and his threats of exposure; that
Mr. George is ready to meet him in any court of law, and that his proofs
are ready. Then at the last follows a magnanimous offer of help, which
the baffled man will be glad to accept as he sneaks away to his Western
home--there to lead, let us hope, a less unworthy life than of old.

Th