st see the cask for herself,
and then she ate and filled her apron, and shed tears, and thanked God
for this wonderful gift all at the same time. Then she told the boys to
come and fetch some baskets at once, to carry them home in, and she
would sort them over, for some were soaked with sea-water, but others
near the middle were quite dry. Bob took a bagful and went in search of
his father along the coast, and everybody was busy carrying or sorting
or drying the biscuits, for they had to be secured before the next tide
came in, or they might be washed away again.

When Coomber came home, bringing a couple of sea-gulls he had shot, he
was fairly overcome at the sight of the biscuits.

"Daddy, it was God that sent 'em," said Tiny, in an earnest, joyful
whisper.

The fisherman drew his sleeve across his eyes. "Seems as though it must
ha' been, deary," he said; "for how that cask ever came ashore without
being broken up well-nigh beats me."

"God didn't let it break, 'cos we wanted the biscuits," said Tiny
confidently; "yer see, daddy, He ain't forgot us, though Bermuda Point
is a long way from anywhere."

The biscuits lasted them for some time, for as the season advanced
Coomber was able to sell some of the wild ducks he shot, and so
potatoes, and flour, and bread could be brought at Fellness again. If
the fisherman could only have believed that whisky was not as necessary
as bread, they might have suffered less privation; but every time he got
a little money for his wild fowl, the bottle had to be replenished, even
though he took home but half the quantity of bread that was needed; and
so Tiny sometimes was heard to wish that God would always send them
biscuits in a tub, and then daddy couldn't drink the stuff that made him
so cross.

Mrs. Coomber smiled and sighed as she heard Tiny whisper this to Dick.
She, too, had often wished something similar--or, at least, that her
husband could do without whisky. Now, as the supply of wild fowl
steadily increased, he came home more sullen than ever. His return from
Fellness grew to be a dread even to Tiny at last; and she and Dick used
to creep off to bed just before the time he was expected to return,
leaving Bob and Tom to bear the brunt of whatever storm might follow.

He seldom noticed their absence, until one night, when, having drunk
rather more than usual, he was very cross on coming in, and evidently on
the look-out for something to make a quarrel over.

"Where's