covered self-possession, and wore a rigid, determined
air, contrasting with the sailor's bewilderment, which was so great
that he found himself driven from the office before he had made up his
mind whether he ought to go or stay.

He sat down to his unnecessary meal, and tried to eat, while an
embarrassed maiden lady talked platitudes to him. Didn't he find it
very dusty in town? Miss Keene, knitting feverishly, was anxious to be
informed. And didn't he think the country looked well for the time of
year?

He was relieved from this tedium by another summons to the office.
Fortified with a glass of good wine, he returned to the encounter,
inwardly calling upon his gods to direct him how to meet it. He found
poor old Father Pennycuick aged ten years in the hour since he had seen
him last. But he still stood in massive dignity, a true son of his old
race.

"Well, Mr Carey," said he, "I have had a great many troubles of late,
sir, but never one like this. I thought that losing money--the fruits
of a lifetime of hard work--was a thing to fret over; and then, again,
I've thought that money's no consequence so long as you've got your
children alive and well--that THAT was everything. I know better now. I
know there's things may happen to a man worse than death--worse than
losing everything belonging to him, no matter what it is. When that
child was a little thing, she had an illness, and the doctors gave her
up. Two nights her mother and I sat up watching her, expecting every
breath to be the last, and broken-hearted was no word for what we felt.
I cried like a calf, and I prayed--I never prayed like it before or
since--and fools we are to ask the Almighty for we don't know what! Now
I wish He had taken her. And I've told her so."

"Then you have been very cruel, Mr Pennycuick," Guthrie Carey replied
sharply--"and as unjust as cruel. She has done nothing--"

"I know what she's done," the stern parent interposed. "I wouldn't have
believed it if anybody else had told me; but I have her own word for
it. And if she has been a liar once, I still know when to believe her."

"If you will be so good as to tell me what she has said, then I will
make MY statement."

The old man put up his hand.

"Don't perjure yourself," said he, grimly smiling. "It is very kind of
you to try to let us down easily, but you can spare your breath.
Excuses only make it worse. There's nothing to be said for her, and
you'll really oblige me by not g