ing to please me, my son, you will just
go and take your wet things off, and turn in for a bit. I will bring you
some hot cocoa in a minute.'

Jack laughed; then, stooping, he took his mother into his great arms,
kissed her, and went.

* * * * *

The day of Estelle's departure was drawing near. The boat had been
prepared, and Fargis had been amiable enough to offer to go with them,
taking his usual crew. He realised that his trouble would be paid for,
and probably handsomely paid for, into the bargain. The weather was in
favour of the crossing, so Estelle and Jack had come for a last walk on
the cliff before that sad day came. To Mrs. Wright and her son the loss
of the child was a deep sorrow; to Estelle, though she was going home to
her beloved Aunt Betty, to the kindest of uncles and aunts, to her most
loving cousins, it was a wrench. She loved those dear ones at home
deeply, truly. But she loved Goody and her dear, kind Jack. What should
she do when she could not see them? Tears came into her eyes, and made
the boats and the sea dim. She longed to ask Jack for one thing before
she went away. Went away! Oh, why must there be these partings?

Meantime, Jack grieved over the loss of his 'little Missie.' He was sad,
and would be sadder when the long winter evenings came, and he missed
her at every turn; but there were other anxieties. He must face that
English world again from which he had fled in the long years of the
past. For Estelle's sake, and because it was his duty, he must take her
back to her English home, and he was debating, painfully, bravely, what
that journey would mean to him. What would it mean to his mother? She
was the dearest and best tie he had in the world. For his sake she had
made sacrifices to which few mothers would have consented, had borne
hardships few would have faced so nobly. Had he any right, after all she
had done for him, to expose her to any chance of evils which this return
to England might bring upon him, and, through him, on her?

Estelle, looking up, saw the grief and perplexity in his face, and her
heart smote her for her own selfish thoughts. She did not understand how
he suffered, but she felt she must comfort him.

'Jack,' she said, swallowing down her tears, and speaking in as steady a
voice as she could muster--dear Jack, you have been so good and kind to
me! So good, I can't express it! Do let me do something for you. I know
you have a sec