n an' me right now, grandpa,
dear."

Wholly mollified and ashamed of his own ill-temper, the captain tried
the familiar tune but it died in his throat. Music was far beyond him
just then, yet he stroked the child's head tenderly, and said, "Some
other time, mate, some other time. I'm a little hoarse, maybe, or
somethin'."

"Well, then, never mind. Let's talk 'Snug Harbor.' You begin. You tell
an' I'll put in what I'm mind to; or I'll say what I guess it's like an'
you set me straight if I get crooked. 'Cause you've seen it, grandpa,
an' I never have. Not once; not yet. Bime-by---- Oh, shall I begin,
shall I, grandpa?"

The sailor sighed fit to shake the whole small tenement and nodded in
consent; so, observing nothing of his reluctance to their once favorite
subject, Glory launched forth:

"'Sailors' Snug Harbor' is the most beautifulest spot in the whole
world! It's all flowery an' grassy an' treesy. It's got fountains an'
birds an' orchestry-music forever an' ever. 'Tain't never cloudy there,
nor rainy, nor freezy, nor snowy, nor nothin' mean. Eh, grandpa? Am I
straight or crooked?"

The captain, roused as from a reverie, replied absently, "It's a
beautiful place, mate; I know that. Nobody wants for nothin' there, an'
once a man casts anchor there he's in safe haven for the rest of his
days. Oh, I ain't denyin' none of its comforts, but I wish the whole
concern'd burn to the ground or sink in the bay. I wish the man first
thought of it had died before he did."

In his anger, the blind man clasped his knife till its blade cut his
hand and Glory cried out in dismay. But he would not have her bathe the
wound and resumed his carving in silence. The little girl waited awhile,
once more fitting the small patch into the big hole of Posy Jane's
jacket; then she went on as if nothing had occurred:

"When we go there to live, me an' you, we'll have a room as big an' nice
as this an' you won't have to do a hand's turn for yourself. You an'
Bo'sn'll just set round in rockin'-chairs--I've seen 'em in the
stores--with welwet cushings on your laps--I mean you two a settin' on
the cushings, a dressed up to beat. Maybe, they'll let you order the
whole crew, yourself, into white ducks for muster at six bells, or
somethin'.

"An'," Glory continued, "there'll be me a wearin' a white frock, all new
an' never mended, an' my hair growed long an' lovely, an' me just as
purty as I wish I was, an' as everybody has to be that lives t