s," cried Billy, whose heart was
comforted, and whose spirits were raised by the success of the operation
on his father's hand; "you see he's so short-sighted that he can't see
no good in nobody but his-self."

"Shut up, you young catfish! See here," said Gunter, stretching out his
wrists, which were red and much swollen.

"Oh! I can give you something for that;" so saying the skipper supplied
the fisherman with a little ointment, and then, going to a cupboard,
produced a pair of worsted cuffs. "You rub 'em well with that first,"
he said, "an' then wear the cuffs."

"He'll want more cuffs than that," said Billy.

"I think not my boy," said the skipper, with a benignant look, as he
stooped to lock the chest. "When these are worn-out he can have more."

"Well, if you'd take my advice," returned Billy, "you'd give him another
pair. A cuff on each side of his head would do him a world of good."

Gunter turned sharply to make a grasp at his young tormentor, but the
lad had taken care to have the cabin table between them, and at once
sprang laughing up the companion.

"He's a smart boy, that," remarked the mission skipper.

"Rather too smart," growled Gunter, as he pocketed his salve and cuffs,
and went on deck.

"Smart enough!" remarked David Bright with a low chuckle of
satisfaction.

"Come now," said the Missionary, "you'll stop and have some coffee or
cocoa with us. You can't work wi' that hand, you know. Besides,
there'll be no fishin' till this calm's over. So we mean to have a
little meetin' in the afternoon. We're in luck too, just now," he added
in a lower voice, "for we've got a real parson aboard. That's him
talkin' to my mate. He's here on a visit--partly for his health, I
believe--a regular clergyman of the Church of England and a splendid
preacher, let me tell you. You'll stop, now, won't you?"

David Bright's countenance grew sad. The memory of his recent failure
and fall came over him.

"What's the use o' _me_ attendin' your meetin's?" he said, almost
angrily; "my soul's past recovery, for I don't believe in your prayin'
an' psalm-singin'."

"You trusted me freely wi' your hand, David, though I'm no surgeon. Why
won't you trust me a little wi' your soul, though I'm no parson--
especially as it seems to be in a very bad way by your own account?
Have a talk wi' the parson. He's got such a way with him that he's sure
to do you good."

It was not so much the words thus spoken as th