him remain passive; they became
active.

Goldsmiths' bills, to the amount of several thousand pounds, had been
taken in the packet and Hiram was examined with an almost
inquisitorial closeness and strictness as to whether he had or had not
knowledge of their whereabouts.

Under his accumulated misfortunes, he grew not only more dull, more
taciturn, than ever, but gloomy, moody, brooding as well. For hours he
would sit staring straight before him into the fire, without moving so
much as a hair.

One night--it was a bitterly cold night in February, with three inches
of dry and gritty snow upon the ground--while Hiram sat thus brooding,
there came, of a sudden, a soft tap upon the door.

Low and hesitating as it was, Hiram started violently at the sound. He
sat for a while, looking from right to left. Then suddenly pushing
back his chair, he arose, strode to the door, and flung it wide open.

It was Sally Martin.

[Illustration: The Pirate's Christmas

_Originally published in_
HARPER'S WEEKLY, _Christmas, 1893_]

Hiram stood for a while staring blankly at her. It was she who first
spoke. "Won't you let me come in, Hi?" said she. "I'm nigh starved
with the cold and I'm fit to die, I'm so hungry. For God's sake, let
me come in."

"Yes," said Hiram, "I'll let you come in, but why don't you go home?"

The poor girl was shivering and chattering with the cold; now she
began crying, wiping her eyes with the corner of a blanket in which
her head and shoulders were wrapped. "I have been home, Hiram," she
said, "but dad, he shut the door in my face. He cursed me just awful,
Hi--I wish I was dead!"

"You better come in," said Hiram. "It's no good standing out there in
the cold." He stood aside and the girl entered, swiftly, gratefully.

At Hiram's bidding black Dinah presently set some food before Sally
and she fell to eating ravenously, almost ferociously. Meantime, while
she ate, Hiram stood with his back to the fire, looking at her
face--that face once so round and rosy, now thin, pinched, haggard.

"Are you sick, Sally?" said he presently.

"No," said she, "but I've had pretty hard times since I left home,
Hi." The tears sprang to her eyes at the recollection of her troubles,
but she only wiped them hastily away with the back of her hand,
without stopping in her eating.

A long pause of dead silence followed. Dinah sat crouched together on
a cricket at the other side of the hearth, listening with interest.
H