not own a dollar,
which was precisely Robert's case.

Indeed, I may go further and say that never in the course of his life of
fifteen years had he been able to boast the ownership of a hundred
cents.

John Trafton, his uncle, was a fisherman. His small house, or cabin, was
picturesquely situated on the summit of a cliff, at the foot of which
rolled the ocean waves, and commanded a fine sea view.

That was perhaps its only recommendation, for it was not only small, but
furnished in the plainest and scantiest style. The entire furniture of
the house would not have brought twenty-five dollars at auction, yet for
twenty-five years it had been the home of John and Jane Trafton and for
twelve years of their nephew, Robert.

My readers will naturally ask if the fisherman had no children of his
own. There was a son who, if living, would be twenty-three years old,
but years before he had left home, and whether Ben Trafton was living or
dead, who could tell? Nothing had been heard of him for five years.

Mrs. Trafton's affections had only Robert for their object, and to her
sister's son she was warmly attached--nearly as much so as if he had
been her own son.

Her husband's love of drink had gradually alienated her from him, and
she leaned upon Robert, who was always ready to serve her with boyish
devotion and to protect her, if need be, from the threats of her
husband, made surly by drink.

Many days she would have gone to bed supperless but for Robert. He would
push out to sea in his uncle's boat, catch a supply of fish, selling a
part if he could or trade a portion for groceries. Indeed he did more
for the support of the family than John Trafton did himself.

"It's about time for supper, Robert," said his aunt; "but I've only got
a little boiled fish to offer you."

"Fish is good for the brains. Aunt Jane," said Robert, smiling.

"Well, I suppose it's no use waiting for your uncle. If he's at the
tavern, he will stay there until he is full of liquor and then he will
reel home. Come in and sit down to the table."

Robert entered the cabin and sat down at a side table. His aunt brought
him a plate of boiled fish and a potato.

"I found just one potato in the cupboard, Robert," she said.

"Then eat it yourself, aunt. Don't give it to me."

"No, Robert; I've got a little toast for myself. There was a slice of
bread too dry to eat as it was, so I toasted it and soaked it in hot
water. That suits me better than the