s father has an eye on
him, but he does not require to say more than an occasional word at long
intervals.

Need we observe that our little hero is no longer subject to the demon
which felled him at starting, and made his rosy face so pale? One
glance at the healthy brown cheeks will settle that question. Another
glance at his costume will suffice to explain, without words, much of
Billy's life during the past eight weeks. The sou'-wester is crushed
and soiled, the coat is limp, rent, mended, button-bereaved more or
less, and bespattered, and the boots wear the aspect of having seen
service. The little hands too, which even while ashore were not
particularly white, now bear traces of having had much to do with tar,
and grease, and fishy substances, besides being red with cold, swelled
with sundry bruises, and seamed with several scars--for Billy is
reckless by nature, and it takes time and much experience of suffering
to teach a man how to take care of his hands in the fisheries of the
North Sea!

An hour or two more sufficed to carry our smack into port, and then the
various members of the crew hurried home.

Billy swaggered beside his father and tried to look manly until he
reached his own door, where all thought of personal appearance suddenly
vanished, and he leaped with an unmanly squeal of delight into his
mother's arms. You may be sure that those arms did not spare him!

"You'll not go down to-night, David?" said Mrs Bright, when, having
half choked her son, she turned to her husband.

"No, lass,--I won't," said the skipper in a tone of decision.

Mrs Bright was much gratified by the promise, for well did she know,
from bitter experience, that if her David went down to meet his comrades
at the public-house on his arrival, his brief holidays would probably be
spent in a state of semi-intoxication. Indeed, even with this promise
she knew that much of his time, and a good deal of his hardly earned
money, would be devoted to the publican.

"We'll not have much of Billy's company this week, I fear," said Mrs
Bright, with a glance of pride at her son, who returned it with a look
of surprise.

"Why so, Nell?" asked her husband.

"Because he has got to go to London."

"To Lun'on!" exclaimed the father.

"Lun'on!" echoed the son.

"Yes; it seems that Miss Ruth--that dear young lady, Miss Ruth Dotropy--
you remember her, Billy?"

"Remember her! I should think I does," said the boy, emphatically, "if