upon earth, and she said so many times,
with her suppliant head hidden from all but her Father who was in
Heaven. Then she tried to calm her thoughts and stay her tears, and went
down to her kind protector.

The captain had cooked the evening meal and spread the cloth with great
care, and when Florence appeared he dressed for dinner, by taking off
his glazed hat and putting on his coat. That done, he wheeled the table
against her on the sofa, said Grace, and did the honors of the table.

"My Lady Lass," said he, "Cheer up, and try to eat a bit. Stand by,
dearie! Liver wing it is. Sarse it is. Sassage it is. And potato!"

All of these delicacies the captain ranged symetrically on the plate,
pouring hot gravy on the whole and adding: "Try and pick a bit, my
Pretty. If Wal'r was here--"

"Ah! If I had him for my brother now!" cried Florence.

"Don't take on, my Pretty," said the captain: "awast, to obleege me. He
was your nat'r'l born friend like, wa'n't he, Pet? Well, well! If our
poor Wal'r was here, my Lady Lass--or if he could be--for he's drowned,
a'n't he?--As I was saying, if he could be here, he'd beg and pray of
you, my precious, to pick a leetle bit, with a look-out for your own
sweet health. Whereby, hold your own, my Lady Lass, as if it was for
Wal'r's sake, and lay your pretty head to the wind!"

Florence essayed to eat a morsel for the captain's pleasure, but she was
so tired and so sad that she could do scant justice to the meal, and was
glad indeed when the time came to retire.

She slept that night in the same little room, and the next day sat in
the small parlor, busy with her needle, and more calm and tranquil than
she had been on the day preceding. The captain, looking at her, often
hitched his arm chair close to her, as if he were going to say something
very confidential, and hitched it away again, as not being able to make
up his mind how to begin. In the course of the day he cruised completely
around the parlor in that frail bark, and more than once went ashore
against the wainscot, or the closet door, in a very distressed
condition.

It was not until deep twilight that he fairly dropped anchor at last by
the side of Florence, and began to talk connectedly. He spoke in such a
trembling voice, and looked at Florence with a face so pale and agitated
that she clung to his hand in affright, and her color came and went as
she listened.

"There's perils and dangers on the deep, my Beauty," said t