ve, said he
would tell her a story before going home.

The handsome young skipper was in the habit of entertaining the sick
child with marvellous tales of the sea during his frequent visits, for
he was exceedingly fond of her, and never failed to call during his
periodical returns to land. His love was well bestowed, for poor Eve,
besides being of an affectionate nature, was an extremely imaginative
child, and delighted in everything marvellous or romantic. On this
occasion, however, he was interrupted at the commencement of his tale by
the entrance of his own ship's cook, the boy Bob Lumsden, _alias_ Lumpy.

"Hullo, Lumpy, what brings you here?" asked the skipper.

But the boy made no answer. He was evidently taken aback at the
unexpected sight of the sick child, and the skipper had to repeat his
question in a sterner tone. Even then Lumpy did not look at his
commander, but, addressing the child, said--

"Beg parding, miss; I wouldn't have come in if I'd knowed you was in
bed, but--"

"Oh, never mind," interrupted Eve, with a little smile, on seeing that
he hesitated; "my friends never see me except in bed. Indeed I live in
bed; but you must not think I'm lazy. It's only that my back's bad.
Come in and sit down."

"Well, boy," demanded the skipper again, "were you sent here to find
_me_?"

"Yes, sir," said Lumpy, with his eyes still fixed on the earnest little
face of Eve. "Mister Jay sent me to say he wants to speak to you about
the heel o' the noo bowsprit."

"Tell him I'll be aboard in half an hour."

"I didn't know before," said Eve, "that bowsprits have heels."

At this Lumpy opened his large mouth, nearly shut his small eyes, and
was on the point of giving vent to a rousing laugh, when his commander
half rose and seized hold of a wooden stool. The boy shut his mouth
instantly, and fled into the street, where he let go the laugh which had
been thus suddenly checked.

"Well, she _is_ a rum 'un!" he said to himself, as he rolled in a
nautical fashion down to the wharf where the _Lively Poll_ was
undergoing repairs.

"I think he's a funny boy, that," said Eve, as the skipper stooped to
kiss her.

"Yes, he _is_ a funny dog. Good-bye, my pretty one."

"Stay," said Eve solemnly, as she laid her delicate little hand on the
huge brown fist of the fisherman; "you've often told me stories,
Stephen; I want to tell one to you to-night. You need not sit down;
it's a very, very short one."

But th