ning, when the proud old man sat stunned in his
room, Florence, yielding to her first impulse of grief and pity for him,
ran to him to comfort him. But when she would have thrown her arms
around his neck he lifted his arm and struck her so that she tottered.

And as he did so he bade her follow Edith, since they had always been in
league!

In that blow Florence felt at last his cruelty, neglect and hatred
trampling down any feeling of compassion he may once have had for her.
She saw she had no longer a father she could love; and, wringing her
hands, with her head bent to hide her agony of tears, ran out of the
house that could no more be her home, into the heartless street.

III

HOW FLORENCE REACHED A REFUGE

For a long time she ran without purpose, weeping, and not knowing where
to go. But at last she thought of the day, so many years before, when
she had been lost and when Walter Gay had found her. He had taken her
then to the shop of his uncle, old Solomon Gills. There, she thought,
she might at least find shelter.

When she got to the sign of the wooden midshipman she had just enough
strength to knock and push open the door, and then, at sight of Captain
Cuttle's honest face, all her strength left her, and she fainted on the
threshold.

Captain Cuttle was cooking his breakfast. He knew her at once, even
though she had grown to be a young lady. He lifted her and laid her on
the sofa, calling her his "lady lass," and bathed her face in cold water
till she opened her eyes and knew him. She told him all her story, and
he comforted her, and told her the shop should be her home just as long
as she would stay in it. When she had eaten some toast and drunk some
tea he made her lie down in the little upper room and sleep till she
woke refreshed at evening.

When she came down the stair she found Captain Cuttle cooking dinner. He
seemed to her then to have some great, joyful and mysterious secret. All
through the evening and until she went to bed he would persist in
drawing the conversation around to Walter, which brought the tears again
and again to her eyes.

Then he would rumble out, "Wal'r's drown-ded, ain't he, pretty?" and nod
his head and look very wise.

Indeed, Captain Cuttle _did_ have a wonderful secret. While Florence
had been sleeping he had received a great piece of news: Walter, whom
every one had believed drowned, had escaped death alone of all on the
wrecked vessel. He had clung to a spar when