"Do, sir, do, G.o.d bless her! To think she's my Jack's child!"

interrupted Coomber, drawing his sleeve across his eyes. "Do you know, sir, where my boy went down?" he asked, in a tremulous voice.

But the other shook his head. "I tell you I know nothing of my daughter after she married; but she sent me a box with some letters and these portraits, and some other odds and ends, to be kept for her little Matilda. I'll send you them if you like;" and the old man rose as he spoke. "Can you go with me to Fellness now, and settle this business about the money?" he added.

"But don't you want to see Tiny?" exclaimed Coomber, who could not understand his willingness to give up his claim to the child.

"I have seen her. We had a long talk here before you came. You may tell her that her Grandfather West will come and see her sometimes. And now, if you'll follow me as quickly as you can to the village, we'll settle this business;" and as he spoke, Mr. West turned towards the road, leaving Coomber still half-dazed with astonishment.

"Bob, Bob," he called at last, "I've got to go to the village. A strange thing has happened here to-day, and I want to get my wits a bit together before I tell your mother. But you needn't do much to the boat till I come back, for it may be we shall have a new one after all."

Bob looked up in his father's face, speechless with surprise. He spoke of having a new boat as though it was a very sad business. But his next words explained it. "I've heard of Jack," he said; "no storms will trouble him again;" and then the fisherman burst forth into heart-breaking sobs and groans, and Bob shed a few tears, although he felt heartily ashamed of them.

"Now go back, Bob, and tell your mother I've gone to Fellness; and if I ain't home by five o'clock, you come and meet me, for I shall have some money to carry--almost a fortune, Bob."

Having heard so much, Bob wanted to hear more, and so walked with his father for the first mile along the road, listening to the strange tale concerning Tiny. Then he went back, and told the news to the astonished group at home; and so, before Coomber returned, his wife had got over the first outburst of grief for the death of her son, and she and Bob had had time to talk calmly over the whole matter. They had decided that the money must be used in such a way as would give the little girl the greatest benefit from it, and that she must go to school, if possible.

"Now, if dad could buy a share in one of the bigger boats where he and I could work, wouldn't it be better than buying a little one for ourselves?" suggested Bob; "then we could go and live at Fellness, and Tiny could go to school--Sunday-school as well as week-day."

"And d.i.c.k, too," put in Tiny.

"Yes, and we should all go to G.o.d's house on Sunday," said Mrs. Coomber, drying her eyes.

Strange to say, a similar project had been suggested to Coomber by his old friend Peters, who knew a man who wanted to sell his share in one of the large fishing-boats, and was asking forty pounds for it.

"That will leave us ten pounds, mother, to buy the children some new clothes, and take us to Fellness. What do you say to it now?" asked her husband, after they had talked it over.

"Why, it seems too good to be true," said the poor woman, through her tears. "But oh! if only poor Jack was here!" she sighed.

Her husband shook his head, and was silent for a minute or two; but at length he said: "G.o.d has been very good to us when we had no thought of Him. I always knew the little 'un must be a sailor's la.s.s, but to think that she should be our Jack's own child is wonderful. The old gentleman had made quite sure of it before he came here--he wouldn't part with his money unless he'd been sure, I know; and now she's ours, just as much as d.i.c.k and Bob is. And we'll take good care of her, G.o.d bless her, and Him for sending her to us."

The rest of my story is soon told. The fisherman and his family removed to Fellness, and brighter days dawned for them than they had ever hoped to see. When the box arrived from Mr. West, containing the letter and papers relating to the latter years of their son's life, they found that he had become a true Christian through his wife's influence. He had also learned to read and write; and in the last letter sent to his wife before his death, he told her he meant to go and see his parents as soon as he returned from that voyage. Alas! he never did return; but the "little la.s.s," of whom he spoke so lovingly, became G.o.d's messenger to his old home, and the joy and comfort of his parents' hearts.