"So you shall, deary, so you shall," said the old fisherman, in a pleased tone, for he had often tried to coax her out with him on the sea; but the memory of that awful night on the bar sands still clung to her, and the sight of the boat, swayed about at the mercy of the waves, filled her with a nameless terror. "There won't be a storm, will there?" asked Tiny, with a shiver of fear, as the fisherman carefully lifted her in and placed her beside the basket of samphire. "My deary, if I thought the wind 'ud be even a bit fresh to-night, I wouldn't take yer," said the fisherman, in an earnest tone. He had never been so tender with one of his own children--unless it was to the little girl lying in the churchyard--as he was to this little waif of the sea; and now, as he pushed off from the shore, he was careful to keep the old boat as steady as possible, and sat watching her little frightened face as he plied his oars. He kept as close to the beach, too, as he well could, just skirting the sand-banks, so that she should have the comfort of seeing the land all the way along. After a few minutes Tiny grew less frightened, and ventured to ask a question about where they were going. "Oh, I'll take yer to see Dame Peters while Bob unloads the boat," said Coomber, nodding at her in an approving manner. "And shall I see the shops?" asked Tiny; for she did not believe what Dick had told her. "Shops, shops!" repeated the fisherman, resting on his oars for a minute to stare at the little girl. "Well, there's a shop," he said, slowly; "but I don't see what you can want there." "Do they sell books?" asked Tiny, eagerly. For answer the fisherman burst into a loud laugh. "What does a little 'un like you know about books?" he said. "But I know of something they do sell, as 'll suit you a deal better; they sell sweets, and almond rock, as well as 'bacca and bread, and you shall have some, my deary." The fisherman expected a joyous outburst in anticipation of these unwonted dainties, but the little girl said slowly-- "Don't they sell books, too, daddy? I'd rather have a book than almond rock," she added. "Why, what do you want with a book, a little 'un like you?" said Coomber, impatiently. "We both wants it, Dick and me; we wants to find out whether God loves boys as well as gals." The fisherman looked at her serious little face for a minute, and then burst into a laugh again. "Well, you are a rum 'un as ever I came across. Did you hear that, Bob?" he asked, appealing to his elder son, who was steering. Bob turned his sulky face round. "What's she saying now?" he asked. "What was, it little 'un--whether God loved boys and gals, wasn't it?" asked the fisherman, who was highly amused at the question. "He don't love none of us, I can tell her that," said Bob, sharply. "He forgot us long ago, if ever He knowed anything about us." "There, what d'ye think o' that, little 'un?" said the fisherman, pulling away at the oars.