rather slowly, the pair made their way to
the attic of Mrs Martin, where the unexpected sight of her son threw
the patient woman into a great flutter of surprise and pleasure. We use
the word "patient" advisedly, for Mrs Martin was one of those
wholesome-minded creatures who, having to battle vigorously for the bare
necessaries of life in the face of many adverse circumstances, carry on
the war with a degree of hearty, sweet-tempered resolution which might
put to shame many who are better off in every way. Mrs Martin was a
widow and a washerwoman, and had a ne'er-do-well brother, a fisherman,
who frequently "sponged" upon her. She also had a mother to support and
attend upon, as well as a "bad leg" to endure. True, the attendance on
her mother was to the good woman a source of great joy. It constituted
one of the few sunbeams of her existence, but it was not on that account
the less costly, for the old woman could do nothing whatever to increase
the income of the widow's household--she could not, indeed, move a step
without assistance. Her sole occupation was to sit in the attic window
and gaze over the sands upon the sea, smiling hopefully, yet with a
touch of sadness in the smile; mouthing her toothless gums, and
muttering now and then as if to herself, "He'll come soon now." Her
usual attitude was that of one who listens expectantly.

Thirty years before Granny Martin had stood at the same attic window, an
elderly woman even then, looking out upon the raging sea, and muttering
anxiously the same words, "He'll come soon now." But her husband never
came. He was lost at sea. As years flew by, and time as well as grief
weakened her mind, the old woman seemed to forget the flight of time,
and spent the greater part of every day in the attic window, evidently
on the look-out for some one who was to come "soon." When at last she
was unable to walk alone, and had to be half carried to her seat in the
attic window by her strong and loving daughter, the sadness seemed to
pass away, and her cheery spirit revived under the impression,
apparently, that the coming could not be delayed much longer. To every
one Granny was condescendingly kind, especially to her grandchild Fred,
of whom she was very fond.

Only at intervals was the old woman's cheerfulness disturbed, and that
was during the occasional visits of her ne'er-do-well son Dick, for he
was generally drunk or "half-seas-over" when he came. Granny never
mention