“Don't waste your pity, Miss Florence. Ruth reads a newspaper better than any woman I ever knew. I've heard her doing it to the old man, getting through shipping news, money-market, and politics in fine style. I wouldn't offer her money if I were you, though it is a kind thought. These people have an honest pride in earning things for themselves, and I respect them for it,” added Mr. Wallace. “Dear me! I should as soon think of a sand skipper having pride as one of these fishy folks in this stupid little place,” observed Mr. Fred, moving his legs into the shadow as the creeping moonlight began to reveal the hideous boots. “Why not? I think they have more to be proud of, these brave, honest, independent people, than many who never earn a cent and swell round on the money their fathers made out of pork, rum, or--any other rather unpleasant or disreputable business,” said Captain John, with the twinkle in his eye, as he changed the end of his sentence, for the word “pickles” was on his lips when Aunt Mary's quick touch checked it. Some saucy girl laughed, and Mr. Fred squirmed, for it was well known that his respectable grandfather whom he never mentioned had made his large fortune in a pickle-factory. “We all rise from the mud in one sense, and all may be handsome flowers if we choose before we go back, after blooming, to ripen our seeds at the bottom of the water where we began,” said Miss Scott's refined voice, sounding softly after the masculine ones. “I like that idea! Thank you, Aunt Mary, for giving me such a pretty fancy to add to my love for water-lilies. I shall remember it, and try to be a lovely one, not a bit ashamed to own that I came from honest farmer stock,” exclaimed the thoughtful girl who had learned to know and love the sweet, wise woman who was so motherly to all girls. “Hear! hear!” cried Captain John, heartily; for he was very proud of his own brave name kept clean and bright through a long line of sailor kin. “Now let us sing or we shall have no time,” suggested Miss Ellery, who warbled as well as rippled, and did not wish to lose this opportunity of singing certain sentimental songs appropriate to the hour. So they tuned their pipes and made “music in the air” for an hour, to the great delight of Sammy, who joined in every song, and was easily persuaded to give sundry nautical melodies in a shrill small voice which convulsed his hearers with merriment. “Ruth sings awful well, but she won't afore folks,” he said, as he paused after a roaring ditty. “She will for me;” and Mr. Wallace went slowly up to the rock not far away, where Ruth sat alone listening to the music as she rested after her long day's work.