dread his going more and more every time."

"Ah! but where will you find a stouter heart, or a steadier hand and
eye, than belong to good old Reuben Olmstead? He can put many of the
young men to shame, thanks to his temperate life! Your father is one of
the best types of his class, Sara,--brave, honest, and true,--did you
know it?"

As she spoke, she led the girl from the tiny entry, with three of its
corners cut off by doors, into a pleasant room lighted by the aforesaid
bay window. It had a bright red-and-green square of carpeting in the
centre, with edges of fine India matting; a large cabinet of seashells
and other marine curiosities occupied one end; a parrot was chained to a
high perch near an open Franklin stove at the other, and the walls
between were decorated with queer plates and platters of dragon-china,
while great bunches of tassel-like grasses and wings of brilliant
feathered fowl filled the odd spaces.

Motioning her guest to a small easy-chair, Miss Prudence Plunkett took
her own, one of those straight-backed, calico-cushioned wooden rockers
dear to our grandmothers, and drew it up opposite the girl's.

"No, child, you musn't worry! Reuben Olmstead's a good sailor yet, and,
better than all, a good man. His Father will look after him more
tenderly than you can," giving her cap an odd little jerky nod, which
caused the parrot to suddenly croak out,--

"'Taint neither!" "Hush, Poll, nobody's talking to you! It's
astonishing, my dear, how much that creature knows. She thinks when I
nod my head I'm trying to convince her of something, and it always makes