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"Yes, sir," answered Lucy. "I paid her a visit with papa when she returned home before this voyage, but I was never in her cabin." "Is it re'lly?" she returned with sarcasm. "I wasn't sure. I thort maybe it was a fish-line, or a jack-knife. Now what do you think of your precious son?" she demanded. Mr Lawrence supped alone as he had dined alone, and, as he intended, to breakfast alone. At sea the last meal which in the old forecastle days consisted of black tea and ship's[Pg 296] biscuit was invariably called supper. At six o'clock Mr Lawrence sat down to the last meal of the day. A tray for the inmate of the Captain's cabin was prepared. It was furnished with tea and milk (for the ship was but one day out, and though she wanted a cow she could not need at least a day's supply of milk), bread and butter, slices of ham and biscuits. When the steward came from the cabin Mr Lawrence said: "Did the young lady speak?".

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Maurice shivered and gazed imploringly at Billy. "But she cannot be in Old Town or even in the district," broke in Miss Acton, "or why did she not return to dinner? She has had the whole morning. From a little after seven till now is a very long time, and a hundred acts of charity may be performed in less." "Hello!" exclaimed the startled deacon. "Why, bless us, it's a boy! Who are you, and what do you want?" "Where did the boy go?" he asked. "He must have been wet to the skin.".