val captain, could by no effort of imagination
be confounded with the quiet strength and gentle manliness which Dolly
had found in the straight brows and keen blue eyes and kindly smile of
her midshipman friend. That would not do. Nelson was not like him, nor
he like Nelson; but Dolly had little doubt but he would do as much, if
he had occasion. In that faith she read on; and made every action
lively with the vision of those keen-sighted blue eyes and firm sweet
mouth in the midst of the smoke of battle and the confusion of orders
given and received. How often the Life of Nelson was read, I dare not
say; nor with what renewed eagerness the Marine Dictionary and its
plates of ships and cannon were studied and searched. From that,
Dolly's attention was extended to other books which told of the sea and
of life upon it, even though the life were not war-like. Captain Cook's
voyages came in for a large amount of favour; and Cooper's "Afloat and
Ashore," which happened about this time to fall into Dolly's hands, was
devoured with a hunger which grew on what it fed. Nobody knew; she had
ceased to talk on naval subjects; and it was so common a thing for
Dolly to be swallowed up in some book or other whenever she was at
home, that Mrs. Eberstein's curiosity was not excited.

Meanwhile school days and school work went on, and week succeeded week,
and everybody but Dolly had forgotten all about the "Achilles;" when
one day a small package was brought to the door and handed in "For Miss
Dolly Copley." It was a Saturday afternoon. Dolly and her aunt were
sitting comfortably together in Mrs. Eberstein's workroom upstairs, and
Mr. Eberstein was there too at his secretary.

"For me?" said Dolly, when the servant brought the package in. "It's a
box! Aunt Harry, what can it be?"

"Open and see, Dolly."

Which Dolly did with an odd mixture of haste and deliberation which
amused Mrs. Eberstein. She tore off nothing, and she cut nothing;
patiently knots were untied and papers unfolded, though Dolly's fingers
trembled with excitement. Papers taken off showed a rather small
pasteboard box; and the box being opened revealed coil upon coil,
nicely wound up, of a beautifully wrought chain. It might be a watch
chain; but Dolly possessed no watch.

"What is it, Aunt Harry?" she said in wondering pleasure as the coils
of the pretty woven work fell over her hand.

"It looks like a watch chain, Dolly. What is it made of?"

Mrs. Eberstein insp