all, had been to sit beside this man's calamity, on the
merest chance of piercing it with one ray of comfort!

Whereupon, as goodness takes inspiration from goodness, in Cai's heart,
too, a miracle happened, He forgot himself, forgot his loss which was
'Bias's gain: forgot that, keeping his surly attitude, 'Bias had uttered
neither a "thank you" nor a word of pity. Old affection, old
admiration, old faith, and regard came pouring back in a warm tide,
thrilling, suffusing his consciousness, drowning all but one thought--
one proud thought that stood like a sea-mark above the flood, justifying
all--"Even such a man I made my friend!"

For a long time Cai stared. Then, as 'Bias made no sign of lifting his
sullen gaze from the strip of carpet by the bed, he turned half-about
towards the door.

"'Bias Hunken," said he gently, "you're a good man, an' deserved this
luck better'n me. . . . If you can't put away hard thoughts just yet,
maybe you'll remember, some day, that I wished 'ee long life to enjoy
it."

His hand was on the door. "Here, though--hold hard!" put in Fancy, who
had picked up the bundle of papers. "I don't think Cap'n Hunken
understands; nor I don't clearly understand myself. Was it _both_
packets you carried home, sir? or only this one?"

"I thought as I'd made it clear enough," answered Cai. His eyes were
still on his friend, and there was weariness as well as pain in his
voice. "There's only one packet--'Bias's--what you have in your hand.
I must have carried it home by mistake."

"Then your's is missin'?"

"That's so," said the broken man quietly.

The child turned and walked to the window. On her way she halted a
moment and peered earnestly into the invalid's eyes, as if the riddle
might possibly be read there. But they were vacant and answered her
nothing. Then for some twenty seconds, almost pressing her forehead to
the window-pane, she stood and gazed out upon the glancing waters of the
harbour.

"There's only one thing to be done--" She wheeled about sharply.
"Why, wherever _is_ the man? . . . You don't mean to tell me," she
demanded of 'Bias indignantly, "that you sat there an' let him go!"

"I couldn' help his goin', could I?" muttered 'Bias, but his eyes were
uneasy under the wrath in hers.

"You couldn' help it?" she echoed in scorn, and pointed to the figure on
the bed. "Here you come playin' the Early Christian over a man that,
for aught you knew, had robbed you to a s