"I've got it! I've got it, Dick!"

"Hush, hush, deary; Dick and Tom have gone to bed, and both are fast
asleep. Come in and get your supper; it's been waiting ever so long for
you." As she spoke, the poor woman cast several furtive glances at her
husband, fearing that he was more than usually morose, as he had not
spoken; but, to her surprise, he said, in a merry tone:

"Bless you, mother, the little 'un has got something better than supper.
Dame Peters wanted her to stay and have some hot potatoes; but she was
in such a hurry to be off with her prize that she wouldn't look at the
potatoes."

"I've got some reading," said Tiny, in a delighted whisper, holding up
her sheet of paper.

"Why, what's the good of that?" exclaimed Mrs. Coomber, in a
disappointed tone. "Nobody at the Point can read, unless it's the Hayes'
at the farm."

"And she'd better not let me catch her with any of them," put in
Coomber, sharply.

"Dick and me are going to learn to read by ourselves," announced Tiny,
spreading out her picture on the table. This would enhance its value to
everybody, she thought, since Dame Peters set such store by it solely
because of the picture. And so she did not venture to turn it over to
con the letters on the other side until after Bob had come in, and they
had all looked at it.

"What's it all about?" asked Bob, turning to the smoking plate of fish
which his mother had just placed on the table.

"Don't you see it's a kind man putting his hand on the boys' heads?"
said Tiny, rather scornfully.

"Oh, anybody can see that," said Bob. "But what does it mean? That's
what I want to know."

But Tiny could only shake her head as she gazed earnestly at the print.
"I dunno what it is," she said, with a sigh.

"Come, come, you must put that away for to-night," said Mrs. Coomber;
"you ought to have been in bed an hour ago;" and she would have taken
the picture away, but Tiny hastily snatched it up, and, carefully
folding it, wrapped it in another piece of paper, and then begged that
it might be put away in a drawer for fear it should be lost before the
morning.

Mrs. Coomber smiled as she took it from her hand. "I'll take care of
it," she said, "and you go and get your supper."

It was not often that the fisherman's family were up so late as this,
but no one seemed in a hurry to go to bed. Coomber himself was so
good-tempered that his wife and Bob forgot their habitual fear of him in
listening to his account of