s
only the weak, half-starved ones that are ill."

A long silence followed. Then Noll asked, softly,--

"Do you give me permission to help them all I can, Uncle Richard?"

Trafford drew a great sigh, as if he felt himself to be yielding,
perhaps, the boy's very life, and answered, "Yes."

"And you'll help me, too?" said Noll, brightly.

"No! Isn't this enough? What more would you have?"

"I thought that--that perhaps you would help a little, too,--you can
do so much more than I," said Noll.

Trafford shook his head, gloomily. "No," he said; "I can give you
nothing but money. I have no heart for the work. And now I think of
it, you've had no allowance since you came here, Noll. I had not
thought of it before. Brother Noll and I always had spending-money."

"But I've no use for it," said Noll, with a little laugh; "I couldn't
spend it if I tried, Uncle Richard!"

"You may find a use for it when the 'Gull' begins her trips again,"
said his uncle; "at any rate, you shall have an allowance. You will
find it on your study table every Monday morning."

Noll thanked his uncle for this kindness, but at the time, was much at
a loss what to do with his weekly allowance which every Monday morning
brought him. He found a use for it, however, as time will show.

After this long talk, Noll felt somewhat lighter-hearted, if for no
other reason than because he had received Uncle Richard's permission
to go on with his work of aid. Spring was not far off, and with its
coming the fever would most likely flee, and then, he thought, there
would be some hope of doing something for the Culm people. And was he
not already doing something?

To Noll, it seemed but the merest trifle; in the eyes of the poor
fish-folk, his deeds were great and wonderful. All unconsciously, the
boy was accomplishing one of the most difficult portions of the task
which he had set for himself,--the winning of those rough, untaught
hearts. Many an uncouth blessing was called down upon the lad's head
as he made his appearance day after day at the doors of the
habitations which the fever had entered. His cheery, gladsome
presence, the Culm folk thought, was like a ray of sunshine in the
gloom of their hovels. It was curious to see how those great brawny
men confided in him, and watched to see him coming down the sands of a
morning-time, with his basket of delicacies on one arm, balanced by a
basket of more substantial food on the oth