e him a bit useful. John himself is a kind-hearted chap, and would
treat him well, and in a few years the boy would make a useful nipper on
board his boat."

John Hammond was sent for, and the case was put to him. "Well," he said,
"I think I could do with him, and the brass would be mighty useful to me
just now; but how does the law stand? If it got to be talked about, the
parish might come down upon me for the money."

"That is so, John," one of the others said. "The best plan would be for
you, and two of us, to go up to parson, and ask him how the matter stands.
If he says that it is all right, you may be sure that you would be quite
safe."

The clergyman, upon being consulted, said that he thought the arrangement
was a very good one. The parish authorities had not been asked to find any
money for the father's funeral, and had therefore no say in the matter,
unless they were called upon to take the child. Should any question be
asked, he would state that he himself had gone into the matter and had
strongly approved of the arrangement, which he considered was to their
advantage as well as the child's; for if they took charge of the boy they
would have to keep him at least ten years, and then pay for apprenticing
him out.

Accordingly the boy was handed over to John Hammond. With the buoyancy of
childhood, William Gilmore, which was the best that could be made of what
he gave as his name, soon felt at home in the fisherman's cottage. It was
a pleasant change to him after having been a wanderer with his father for
as far back as he could remember. The old woman was kind in her rough way,
and soon took to sending him on small errands. She set him on washing-days
to watch the pot and tell her when it boiled. When not so employed she
allowed him to play with other children of his own age.

Sometimes when the weather was fine, John, who had come to be very fond of
the boy, never having had any children of his own, would take him out with
him fishing, to the child's supreme enjoyment. After a year of this life
he was put to the village school, which was much less to his liking. Here,
fortunately for himself, he attracted the notice of the clergyman's
daughter, a girl of sixteen. She, of course, knew his story, and was
filled with a great pity for him. She was a little inclined to romance,
and in her own mind invented many theories to account for his appearance
in the village. Her father would laugh sometimes when she rela