gentleman living at the hotel."

"Your uncle--John Trafton--is not a temperate man?"

"No, sir. He spends all the money he earns on drink, and my aunt and I
have to live as we can."

"What a fool is man!" said the hermit musingly. "He alone of created
beings allows himself to be controlled by his appetites, while
professing to stand at the head of the universe!"

Robert felt that he was not expected to answer this speech and remained
respectfully silent till his host resumed his questioning.

"And you," said the old man abruptly, "what do you do?"

"Sometimes I go out with my uncle's boat and catch fish for use at home.
Sometimes I find jobs to do in the village which bring in a little
money. I am always glad of that, for we can't buy groceries without
money, and my uncle never gives us any. My aunt is very fond of tea, but
once for three weeks she had to do without it."

"That was a pity. There are some who find great comfort in tea."

"It is so with Aunt Jane. She says it puts new life in her."

"Have you any money now?"

"Oh, I forgot to tell you of my good luck!" said Robert eagerly. "Just
before I left the wreck I dug up this," and he displayed the purse with
the gold pieces in it. "It would have been a pity if I had been drowned
with all this in my pocket."

"My poor boy, your young life would have outweighed a thousandfold the
value of these paltry coins. Still I do not depreciate them, for they
may be exchanged for comforts. But will not your uncle seek to take them
from you?"

"He will not know that I have this money. I shall not tell him."

"It will be better."

For a brief time the hermit gazed at Robert in thoughtful silence and
then said:

"How old are you?"

"Fifteen, sir."

"Have you ever thought of life and its uses--I mean of the uses of your
own life? Have you ever formed plans for the future?"

"No, sir. It did not seem of much use. I have had to consider how to get
enough for my aunt and myself to live upon."

"So your uncle's burdens have been laid on your young shoulders? Have
you no aspirations? Are you willing to follow in his steps and grow up a
fisherman, like your neighbors?"

"No, sir. I should be very sorry if I thought I must always live here at
Cook's Harbor and go out fishing. I should like to see something of the
world, as I suppose you have."

"Yes, I have seen much of the world--too much for my happiness--or I
would not have come to this quiet spot to end my