"My name is Cyril, sir--Cyril Shenstone."

His employer nodded and at once led the way upstairs. A motherly
looking woman rose from the seat where she was sitting at work, as
they entered the living-room.

"This is my Prince of Scriveners, Mary, the lad I have often spoken
to you about. His name is Cyril; he has accepted the proposal we
talked over last night, and is going to become one of the crew on
board our ship."

"I am glad to see you," she said to Cyril, holding out her hand to
him. "I have not met you before, but I feel very grateful to you.
Till you came, my husband was bothered nearly out of his wits; he
used to sit here worrying over his books, and writing from the time
the shop closed till the hour for bed, and Nellie and I dared not to
say as much as a word. Now we see no more of his books, and he is
able to go out for a walk in the fields with us as he used to do
before."

"It is very kind of you to say so, Mistress," Cyril said earnestly;
"but it is I, on the contrary, who am deeply grateful to you for the
offer Captain Dave has been good enough to make me. You cannot tell
the pleasure it has given me, for you cannot understand how lonely
and friendless I have been feeling. Believe me, I will strive to give
you as little trouble as possible, and to conform myself in all ways
to your wishes."

At this moment Nellie Dowsett came into the room. She was a pretty