e feasts some day to be enjoyed there. Alas! The colonel's
words had changed all that. For her there would be no "Harbor," ever;
but for him, her beloved grandpa, it was still possible. A great fear
suddenly possessed her. What if the captain should get so very, very
hungry, that he would be tempted beyond resistance, and forsake her
after all! She felt the suspicion unworthy, yet it had come, and as the
blind man pushed his plate aside, unable to swallow the unpalatable
porridge, she resolved upon her first debt. Laying her hand on his she
begged, "Wait a minute, grandpa! I forgot--I mean I didn't get the milk.
I'll run round an' be back with it in a jiffy!"

"Got the pay, mate?" he called after her, but, if she heard him, she,
for once, withheld an answer.

"O Mister Grocer!" she cried, darting into the dairy shop, like a stray
blue and golden butterfly, "could you possibly lend me a cent's worth o'
milk for grandpa's dinner? I'll pay you to-night, when I get home from
peddlin', if I can. If I can't then, why the next time----"

"Say no more, Take-a-Stitch, I've a whole can turnin' sour on me an'
you're welcome to a pint on't if you'll take it. My respects to the
captain, and here's good luck to the Queen of Elbow Lane!"

Glory swept him a curtsy, flashed a radiant smile upon him and was
tempted to hug him; but she refrained from this, not knowing how such a
caress might be received. Then she thanked and thanked him till he bade
her stop, and with her tin cup in her hand sped homeward again, crying:

"Here am I, grandpa! More milk 'an you can shake a stick at, with the
store-man's respeckses an' all. A hull pint! Think o' that! An' only
just a teeny, tiny mite sour. Isn't he the nicest one to give it to us
just for nothin'? An' he's another sort of Elbow folks, though he's off
a bit around the block. Oh, this is just the loveliest world there is!
An' who'd want to go to that old 'Snug Harbor' an' leave such dear, dear
people, I sh'd like to know? Not me nor you, Cap'n Simon Beck, an' you
know it!"

Glory sat down and watched her grandsire make the best dinner he could
upon cold porridge and sour milk, her face radiant with pleasure that
she had been able so well to supply him, and almost forgetting that
horrid, all-gone feeling in her own small stomach. Never mind, a peanut
or so might come her way, if Toni Salvatore, the little Italian with the
long name, should happen to be in a good humor and fling them to her