She hesitated for a moment, and in her excitement began pacing the room,
her face working with contending emotions, while the children sat still
and watched her, awed into silence. At length she stopped before them,
and seated herself in the chair which had always been that father's when
at home, and said, in a voice so sweet and sad that it thrilled even
Molly's careless little soul,--

"No, Morton, never, never ashamed of our father! Instead, I love and
revere him, for he was a true, good man,--'one of nature's noblemen,' as
Miss Prue once said,--but, listen, Morton! It wasn't _because_ he
was a fisherman, but in spite of it; for, though it is a life that makes
men brave, sturdy, fearless, and honest, it makes them also rough,
profane, and careless in life and death; in fact, it develops their
bodies, but not their minds or souls.

"And, O Morton, I so want you to be all that father was, and something
more. I want you to be educated and refined. That Mr. Glendenning was as
brave as the best of our fishermen, and dared face any storm, but how
kind he was, and gentle! How respectful to poor Zeba, how thoughtful for
his aunt and uncle, and what a gentleman in every way! Morton, I want
_you_ to be a gentleman too."

"He can't, Sara," put in Molly, her eyes big and round, "he's too poor;
a man's got to have at least a hundred dollars to be a gentleman, and
Morton hasn't but three cents."

Sara smiled, and the boy looked slowly from one to the other in a
ruminating way.