speak; but no one knew. He was
closer-mouthed than ever, though not so gruff and ugly as he used to
be; Archie had softened him, they said, taking the place of that boy of
his he "druv out to die a good many years ago."

Jane's mind wavered. Neither profession suited her. She would sacrifice
anything she had for the boy provided they left him with her.
Philadelphia was miles away, and she would see him but seldom. The sea
she shrank from and dreaded. She had crossed it twice, and both times
with an aching heart. She feared, too, its treachery and cruelty. The
waves that curled and died on Barnegat beach--messengers from across
the sea--brought only tidings fraught with suffering.

Archie had no preferences--none yet. His future was too far off to
trouble him much. Nor did anything else worry him.

One warm September day Archie turned into Yardley gate, his so'wester
still on his head framing his handsome, rosy face; his loose jacket
open at the throat, the tarpaulins over his arm. He had been outside
the inlet with Tod--since daybreak, in fact--fishing for bass and
weakfish.

Jane had been waiting for him for hours. She held an open letter in her
hand, and her face was happier, Archie thought as he approached her,
than he had seen it for months.

There are times in all lives when suddenly and without warning, those
who have been growing quietly by our side impress their new development
upon us. We look at them in full assurance that the timid glance of the
child will be returned, and are astounded to find instead the calm gaze
of the man; or we stretch out our hand to help the faltering step and
touch a muscle that could lead a host. Such changes are like the
breaking of the dawn; so gradual has been their coming that the full
sun of maturity is up and away flooding the world with beauty and light
before we can recall the degrees by which it rose.

Jane realized this--and for the first time--as she looked at Archie
swinging through the gate, waving his hat as he strode toward her. She
saw that the sailor had begun to assert itself. He walked with an easy
swing, his broad shoulders--almost as broad as the captain's and twice
as hard--thrown back, his head up, his blue eyes and white teeth
laughing out of a face brown and ruddy with the sun and wind, his
throat and neck bare except for the silk handkerchief--one of
Tod's--wound loosely about it; a man really, strong and tough, with
hard sinews and capable thighs,