going?"

"The schooner Polly Pike is at the landing."

"What, from Labrador? The one Tom Osborne went in?"

"I suppose so; I met Tom down street."

"Good!" said the Doctor, with emphasis. "Poor Widow Osborne's prayers
are answered, and she will see her son before she dies."

"And precious little good will it do her," said the housekeeper.
"There's not a more drunken, swearing rakeshame in town than Tom
Osborne."

"It's too true," responded the Doctor. "But he's her only son; and you
know, Mrs. Matson, the heart of a mother."

The widow's hard face softened; a tender shadow passed over it; the
memory of some old bereavement melted her; and as she passed into the
house I saw her put her checked apron to her eyes.

By this time Skipper Evans, who had been slowly working his way up
street for some minutes, had reached the gate.

"Look here!" said he. "Here's a letter that I've got by the Polly Pike
from one of your old patients that you gave over for a dead man long
ago."

"From the other world, of course," said the Doctor.