back, and wrists--the kind of sailorman
that could wear tarpaulins or broadcloth at his pleasure and never lose
place in either station.

In this rude awakening Jane's heart-strings tightened. She became
suddenly conscious that the Cobden look had faded out of him; Lucy's
eyes and hair were his, and so was her rounded chin, with its dimple,
but there was nothing else about him that recalled either her own
father or any other Cobden she remembered. As he came near enough for
her to look into his eyes she began to wonder how he would impress
Lucy, what side of his nature would she love best--his courage and
strength or his tenderness?

The sound of his voice shouting her name recalled her to herself, and a
thrill of pride illumined her happy face like a burst of sunlight as he
tossed his tarpaulins on the grass and put his strong arms about her.

"Mother, dear! forty black bass, eleven weakfish, and half a barrel of
small fry--what do you think of that?"

"Splendid, Archie. Tod must be proud as a peacock. But look at this!"
and she held up the letter. "Who do you think it's from? Guess now,"
and she locked one arm through his, and the two strolled back to the
house.

"Guess now!" she repeated, holding the letter behind her back. The two
were often like lovers together.

"Let me see," he coaxed. "What kind of a stamp has it got?"

"Never you mind about the stamp."

"Uncle John--and it's about my going to Philadelphia."

Jane laughed. "Uncle John never saw it."

"Then it's from--Oh, you tell me, mother!"

"No--guess. Think of everybody you ever heard of. Those you have seen
and those you--"

"Oh, I know--Aunt Lucy."

"Yes, and she's coming home. Home, Archie, think of it, after all these
years!"

"Well, that's bully! She won't know me, will she? I never saw her, did
I?"

"Yes, when you were a little fellow." It was difficult to keep the
tremor out of her voice.

"Will she bring any dukes and high daddies with her?"

"No," laughed Jane, "only her little daughter Ellen, the sweetest
little girl you ever saw, she writes."

"How old is she?"

He had slipped his arm around his mother's waist now and the two were
"toeing it" up the path, he stopping every few feet to root a pebble
from its bed. The coming of the aunt was not a great event in his life.

"Just seven her last birthday."

"All right, she's big enough. We'll take her out and teach her to fish.
Hello, granny!" and the boy loosened his arm a