irst o'
the mornin' ebb. I'm goin' up to see Cap'n Bingley now. Not a moment
to spare."

"Avast heavin'," said Gaff, pulling on a pilot coat; "I'm goin' with
'ee. Goin' to jine the Shipwrecked Mariners' Society. Since my last
swim I've bin thinkin' that three shillin's a year is but a small sum,
and the good that they'd do to my widder and childer, if I was drownded,
would be worth while havin'."

"Right, lad, right; every sailor and fisherman should jine it. But come
along; no time for talkin' here. My respects to the missus. Good-bye,
lad."

Shaking hands with Uncle John, the restless skipper once more put on the
imperishable hat with inconceivable violence and left the hut, followed
by his friend.

Returning to Mr Stuart, we find him perusing the ambiguous letter. His
first glance at the contents called forth a look of indignation, which
was succeeded by one of surprise, and that was followed by a smile of
contempt, mingled with amusement.

"Kenneth," he said, tossing the letter to his son, who entered at the
moment, "can you make anything of that?"

"Not much," replied Kenneth, who at once guessed that it came from Gaff.
"The persons who left the child here would appear to be mad, and
anxious to get rid of their own offspring. But I came to tell you of
sad forebodings that fill my breast, father."

"Don't give way to forebodings, Kenneth," said the father gravely; "it
is unmanly, unreasonable."

"Well, suspicions, if you think the word more appropriate. I fear much,
_very_ much, that my dear sister and poor Tom Graham were lost in the
last storm--"

"Why do you omit the child?" asked Mr Stuart quietly, almost coldly.

"I was thinking only of those whom I had known and loved when I spoke,"
replied Kenneth with some emotion.

"There is no _certainty_ that they are lost," observed Mr Stuart.

Kenneth thought there was a slight tremor in his father's voice, but, on
glancing at his stern features, he felt that he must have been mistaken.

"We know that the ship was telegraphed as having been seen in the
Channel; we have heard that they were passengers in her, and nothing has
been heard or seen of her since the night of the storm."

"There is no _certainty_ in all that," reiterated the other; "they may
not have come in that vessel; if they did, some of them may have
escaped. We cannot tell."

Mr Stuart looked so cold and so sternly immovable as he said this,
while carelessly turning over som