A Sailor's Lass

e and the cowering children huddled together in the corner of the old shed where the family washi

yer, when yer might be dry an' comfortable, and have a bit o' breakfast

ose in the corner of the shed for fear her husband should knock her down; while the children stopped

waited wi' a bit o' fire to dry t

safe," pleaded the poor woman. "We

ow when a boat's safe better nor you-a poor tool of a wom

fell to their share, and were somewhat relieved that th

n't come home?

you to Fellness. Ain't you just com

village. Come to the boat, and I'll tell you all about it," he added, in a less severe tone; for the

rl he had left with Dame Peters at Fellness. They listened to his proposal to bring her home and share their scanty meals with very little pleasure, and they wished their m

as already contemplating taking this step very soon, and had promised to help Dick and Tom when they were old enough. It had been a startling revelation to Bob to hear his father speak as he had done on the beach at Fellness about his brother, for he had long ago decided that his father did not care a pin for any of them, unless it was for the baby sister who had died, and even of that he was not quite sure. He had made up his mind, as he walked through the storm that morning, that he would no

ved Bob's information with a nod and a smile, and a whispered word. "Yer father's all right, and a rare good fishe

f he didn't have so much of that bottle," grumbled Bob;

lf a mile off; but once the bottle got filled again, he grew sullen and morose, or quarrelsome. He had recently made himself very disagreeable to Farmer Hayes in one of his irritable fits, a fact which suddenly recurred to his wife when she heard of the

'd picked up a boat," mutter

aimed Mrs. Coomber, as she unpinned the shawl

she was as old as that, and Dame Peters told me she'd j

as only a tender mother can, while the boys stood round in wondering silence, and Coomber dashed a tear from his eye as he thought of the little daughter lying in Fellness churchyard. But he was

g on Mrs. Coomber's lap before the fire, the boys mutely looking at her as she lay, she suddenly put up her little hands, and s

, for this was the first intimation they had had that the child could talk, although Mrs.

red Dick. "Was she saying her pray

wn into the child's face and moved her g

you hear her? She said 'dear God,'" said

went to bed. But that was long before she had heard of Bermuda Point, or thought of having boys and girls of her own. When they came she had forgotten all about those early days; and so they ha

ren to pray, they would have been more of a comfort to her. Perhaps Jack, her eldest, would not have run away from

d so to hear such a prayer as this was something so startling that they could think and talk of nothing else un

mily living-room, and she lay there, quiet but observant, while Mrs. Coomber went about her work-cooking and cleani

asked at length, when Mrs. Coomb

but you needn't be afraid;

tin' tare of me," said the

er several questions about this, but failed to elicit any satisfactory answer. The child was sleepy, or had forgotten what Mrs. Coomber thought she would be sure to

ey're out in the boat lookin

ed the little girl; "home to

ow, can't you tell me something about your mother and

now," said the child, looking round

, who taught you to say your

inute as she said, "See dorn up dere, to tay in

kissed the serious little face. "Is your mother dead, my

er gathered that mother and father were both dead; and when her husband came home she told

bing his hands, "and when she gets well she'll todd

tell him to put something in the Stamford Mercury about finding her,

little 'un, and so we may keep her, I take it. But Peters shall go to the newspaper man, never fear," added Coomber; "I don't want

ut fit her," said Mrs. Coomber, hastily wiping her eyes with her

ittle girl said, shyly, "Tom

her, and then

asked, drawing near the l

good take, Dick?" asked his mother, rather anxiously, for she wanted some

ken a few plaice to Fellness, and I dessay

es now she's ill. Couldn't you run up to the farm, Dick, and ask Mrs. Hayes

with Harry Hayes, and ask him about his rabbits; but father don't like the farm peo

s is a kind soul, who has children of her own, and would let me have milk in a minute if she knew I

can find any fish worth t

t to Fellness, and what was left was not more than sufficient for themselves; but she carefully l

ake to-day, mo

Mrs. Coomber; "but I think I can manage with this," she said, still

oin' to do wi'

ill give me some milk for it, I know," replied hi

U,' SHE SAID.

go near the house," said her husband, angrily. "Take the fish

to do for the milk for

ss that she had taken milk from the man as he went past in his cart to the village each d

ciously; for he saw in this wastefulness a cause for the recent strange scarcity of whisky; and he felt he had been deeply wronged. His quarrel with Hayes had

I will feed the little 'un, and you'll see she c

up his mind to do anything he would do it; but she almost dreaded supper-time coming

very pleased to be lifted out of bed an

her little white hand; and she ate the fish and