n at a touch; Ken, with a sort of half-amazed pride in the
achievements of a little brother who was surmounting such an obstacle.
Felicia sat gazing across the dim room.

"He's reading us a story!" she thought, over and over; "Kirk's reading
to us, without very many mistakes!" She reflected that the book, for
her, might as well be written in Sanskrit. "I ought to know something
about it," she mused; "enough to help him! It's selfish and stupid not
to! I'll ask Miss Bolton."

The soldier had gone only as far as the second dog's treasure-room, when
Maggie came to the door to say that supper was ready. From between the
dining-room curtains came the soft glow of the candles and the inviting
clink of dishes. "'He threw--away all the copper--money he had, and
filled his--knapsack with silver,'" Kirk finished in a hurry, and shut
the book with a bang.

"I wouldn't have done that," he said, as Felicia took the hand he held
out for some one to take; "I should think all the money he could
possibly get would have been useful."

"You've said it!" Ken laughed.

"Yes," Mrs. Sturgis murmured with a sigh, "all the money one can get
_is_ useful. You read it very beautifully, darling--thank you."

She kissed his forehead, and took her place at the head of the table,
where the candles lit her gentle face and her brown eyes--filled now,
with a sudden brimming tenderness.

CHAPTER II

HAVOC

The town ran, in its lower part, to the grimy water-front, where there
was ever a noise of the unloading of ships, the shouts of teamsters, and
the clatter of dray-horses' big hoofs on bare cobblestones. Ken liked to
walk there, even on such a dreary March day as this, when the horses
splashed through puddles, and the funnels of the steamers dripped
sootily black. He had left Felicia in the garden, investigating the
first promise of green under the leaf-coverlet of the perennial bed.
Kirk was with her, questing joyously down the brick path, and breathing
the warm, wet smell of the waking earth.

Ken struck down to the docks; even before he reached the last dingy
street he could see the tall masts of a sailing-ship rising above the
warehouse roofs. It was with a quickened beat of the heart that he ran
the last few steps, and saw her in all her quiet dignity--the
_Celestine_, four-masted schooner. It was not often that sailing vessels
came into this port. Most of the shipping consisted of tugs with their
barges, high black freighters,