a
snow-flake fluttered down; and the wind screamed shrilly about the
house-corners, and wailed hoarsely in the casements.

"Hagar can't go to-day," thought Noll, with a sinking heart; "and, oh!
what _can_ be done?"

He trembled for fear Uncle Richard would forbid him to go to Culm
again. He felt as if he could never bear to meet Dirk's eyes after
promising him aid and failing to bring it; and, with this thought
oppressing him, and the lonely cry of the sea filling his ears, he
dressed himself, and went down to the library with a downcast heart.
His uncle sat by a window, looking, with a sad and gloomy face, upon
the sea; and, as his nephew entered, acknowledged his "Good-morning,
Uncle Richard," with only a cold nod. But Noll, resolved to have the
matter settled at once, came up to his chair, saying,--

"I've got a great favor to ask of you, Uncle Richard. May I go around
to Culm after breakfast?"

Trafford's face grew gloomier than before.

"For what?" he asked.

"To carry something for Dirk's child," Noll answered, meeting his
uncle's stern eyes with his own pleading blue ones.

"Pshaw!" exclaimed Trafford, impatiently, "what are these miserable
fish-folks to you? I don't want you to care for them!"

"But, Uncle Richard--"

"Well?"

"Dirk's child is sick,--dying, I'm afraid!"

"So are hundreds in this world. There's misery everywhere."

"Perhaps I might aid this misery, Uncle Richard, if you'll let me try.
Will you?"

"You will have more than your hands full if you are going to look
after these Culm people," said Trafford, coldly; "you had better not
begin."

Noll's face grew graver and graver, and he made no reply to his
uncle's last remark.

"Well," said Trafford, after a long silence, "do you wish anything
more, Noll?"

The boy turned away, as if hurt by his uncle's coldness, and walked
quickly to the library door. There he wavered--stopped--then turned
about, and came back.

"Uncle Richard," said he, tremulously, "papa said I was to do all the
good I could in the world, and never pass by any trouble that I might
help, and--and I think he would tell me to go to Dirk's, if he were
here."

Trafford turned about with an impatient word upon his lips, but it was
not spoken. It seemed to him as if his dead brother stood before
him,--as he had known him when they were boys together,--and that
those words were meant for a reproach. He put out his hand and touche