'God bless 'ou,' said the child. The words were evidently familiar to
her.

'She must have heard her mother say so,' said Mrs. Millar, in a choking
voice.

When we had finished dinner, the child slipped down from her stool, and
ran to the sofa. Here she found my grandfather's hat, which she put on
her head, and my scarf, which she hung round her neck. Then she marched
to the door, and said, 'Tatta, tatta; Timpey go tatta.'

'Take her out a bit, Alick,' said Mrs. Millar. 'Stop a minute, though;
I'll fetch her Polly's hood.' So, to her great delight, we dressed her
in Polly's hood, and put a warm shawl round her, and I took her out.

Oh! how she ran, and jumped, and played in the garden. I never saw such
a merry little thing. Now she was picking up stones, now she was
gathering daisies ('day days, she called them), now she was running down
the path and calling to me to catch her. She was never still a single
instant!

[Illustration: AFTER THE STORM.]

But every now and then, as I was playing with her, I looked across the
sea to Ainslie Crag. The sea had not gone down much, though the wind had
ceased, and I saw the waves still dashing wildly upon the rocks.

And I thought of what lay beneath them, of the shattered ship, and of
the child's mother. Oh! if she only knew, I thought, as I listened to
her merry laugh, which made me more ready to cry than her tears had