she lay drinking in health with every breath. But Mrs.
Wright was no longer young, and believed in moderation in all things,
especially first things. She insisted that the sail should be a short
one. Jack, therefore, put back at the end of the allotted time, in spite
of Estelle's imploring eyes. She gazed at him as he lowered the sail,
and took up his oars, till he almost fancied there were tears in her
eyes.

'I did so want to go on!' she sighed. 'It may rain another day, and it
is so long since I have seen the sun.'

Mrs. Wright shook her head, however, as one who is deaf to appeal.

'No more to-day, dear,' she said. 'If it is fine to-morrow you shall go
again--that is, if you are none the worse for what you have done
to-day.'

Jack, who could not bear to see his 'little Missie' distressed, assured
her it _would_ be fine to-morrow, and probably for some time longer.
April would soon be upon them, and the time for the singing of birds
begin. _That_ meant fine weather.

'He ought to know,' added Mrs. Wright; 'it is a sailor's business to
understand the sky.'

The words appeared to rouse some train of thought. After gazing
earnestly at Jack's smiling face, Estelle knitted her brows, as if
puzzled, saying, with some hesitation, 'A sailor? Yes, I know a
sailor--now, where did I see him? He had something about him. Oh, what
was it? You must remember, Goody. Will you tell me?'

'I have known a good many sailors, dear, in my time, being the wife and
mother of sailors; and this one,' putting an affectionate hand on Jack's
knee, 'is the biggest of them all.'

But Estelle was not diverted from puzzling over where she had seen the
sailor she wanted to remember, whose name and circumstances she was
conscious had something especial about them.

'I can't recollect!' she exclaimed, putting her hand to her head.
'Somebody said something, and we were sorry--what could it have been?'

'Don't try to remember, dear. It does not matter. As likely as not it
was only a story somebody told you,' urged Mrs. Wright, alarmed at the
flush and distress this first effort to recall anything in the past had
produced.

'Here we are!' cried Jack, cheerfully pulling round into the bay, and
running the little boat as high as possible up the shelving beach.

The tide coming in fast had already covered the sands, and was roaring
on the pebbles. Holding the painter of the boat in one hand, Jack sprang
out with Estelle in his arms, and, after