head of the table, though she did so with a
little sigh, and a soft remark that, "It would be sad if he were to come
when she was not watching." Then there was widow Martin, Fred's
mother--whose bad leg, by the way, had been quite cured by her legacy.

And lastly, there was pretty Mrs Isa Martin, Fred's newly-married wife.

Besides these there were skipper Lockley of the _Lively Poll_, and his
wife Martha--for it will be remembered Martha was cousin to Isa, and
Stephen's smack chanced to be in port at this time as well as the
_Sunbeam_ and the _Fairy_, alias the _Ironclad_, which last circumstance
accounts for Dick Martin being also on shore. But Dick was not invited
to this family gathering, for the good reason that he had not shown face
since landing, and no one seemed to grieve over his absence, with the
exception of poor old granny, whose love for her "wandering boy" was as
strong and unwavering as was her love to the husband, for whose coming
she had watched so long.

Bob Lumsden, it may be remarked, was one of the guests, because Lockley
was fond of him; and Pat Stiver was there because Bob was fond of _him_!
Both were heartily welcomed.

Besides the improvement in Mrs Martin's health, there was also vast
improvement in the furniture and general appearance of the attic since
the arrival of the legacy.

"It was quite a windfall," remarked Mrs Lockley, handing in her cup for
more tea.

"True, Martha, though I prefer to call it a godsend," said Mrs Martin.
"You see it was gettin' so bad, what wi' standin' so long at the tub,
an' goin' about wi' the clo'es, that I felt as if I should break down
altogether, I really did; but now I've been able to rest it I feel as if
it was going to get quite strong again, and that makes me fit to look
after mother far better. Have some more tea, granny!"

A mumbled assent and a pleased look showed that the old woman was fully
alive to what was going on.

"Hand the butter to Isa, Pat. Thankee," said the ex-washerwoman. "What
a nice little boy your friend is, Bob Lumpy! I'm so glad you thought of
bringin' him. He quite puts me in mind of what my boy Fred was at his
age--on'y a trifle broader, an' taller, an stouter."

"A sort of lock-stock-an'-barrel difference, mother," said Fred,
laughing.

"I dun know what you mean by your blocks, stocks, an' barrels," returned
Mrs Martin, "but Pat is a sight milder in the face than you was, an I'm
sure he's a better boy."

The