inst the wainscot. You touched a
spring underneath, and the circular side came up and made a flat top.
The captain took a small key out of a curious long leathern purse, and
Uncle Win unlocked the box and spread out the papers. There was the
marriage certificate of Jacqueline Marie de la Maur and Charles Winthrop
Adams, and the birth and baptismal record of Doris Jacqueline de la Maur
Adams, and ever so many other records and letters.

Mr. Winthrop Adams gave the captain a receipt for them, and thanked him
cordially for all his care and attention to his little niece.

"She was a pretty fair sailor after the first week," said the captain
with a twinkle in his eye. He was very much wrinkled and weather-beaten,
but jolly and good-humored. "And now, sissy, I'm glad you're safe with
your folks, and I hope you'll grow up into a nice clever woman. 'Taint
no use wishin' you good looks, for you're purty as a pink now--one of
them rather palish kind. But you'll soon have red cheeks."

Doris had very red cheeks for a moment. Betty leaned over to her
brother, and whispered:

"What a splendid opportunity lost! Aunt Priscilla ought to be here to
say, 'Handsome is as handsome does.'"

Then Captain Grier shook hands all round and took his departure.

Afterward the two men discussed business about the little girl. There
must be another trustee, and papers must be taken out for guardianship.
They would go to the court-house, say at eleven to-morrow, and put
everything in train.

Betty took out some knitting. It was a stocking of fine linen thread,
and along the instep it had a pretty openwork pattern that was like lace
work.

"That is to wear with slippers," she explained to Doris. "But it's a
sight of work. 'Lecty had six pairs when she was married. That's my
second sister, Mrs. King. She lives in Hartford. I want to go and make
her a visit this winter."

Mrs. Leverett's stocking was of the more useful kind, blue-gray yarn,
thick and warm, for her husband's winter wear. She did not have to count
stitches and make throws, and take up two here and three there.

"Warren," said his mother, when he had poked the fire until she was on
'pins and needles,'--they didn't call it nervous then,--"Warren, I am
'most out of corn. I wish you'd go shell some."

"The hens do eat an awful lot, seems to me. Why, I shelled only a few
nights ago."

"I touched bottom when I gave them the last feed this afternoon. By
spring we won't have so man