So the verses were sung through again, and without a break this time; and Tiny was able to recall the last verse, too, and sang-- "Star Divine, oh! safely guide him, Bring the wanderer back to Thee; Sore temptations long have tried him, Far, far at sea." "Bravo, little 'un," exclaimed Bob, who was completely charmed out of his sulky mood by the singing. "I say, Bob," suddenly exclaimed Coomber, "is the bottle up there?" "I ain't seen the bottle," sulkily responded the lad, his ill-humour returning at once. "I--I took it up, and told 'em to fill it," exclaimed Coomber; and as he spoke he drew in his oars, and felt under the seat, and all round the boat. "I must ha' forgot it, thinking about the little 'un and her picture," he said, after searching round the boat in vain. "It's too late to go back," said Bob; "it'll be dark soon." "Ye-es, it's too late to go back with the child," said Coomber, slowly and regretfully; though what he should do without his nightly dose of whisky he did not know. "Sing again," whispered Bob to Tiny; and the next minute the little voice rang out once more its "Star of Peace." It brought peace to the angry fisherman--the more angry, perhaps, because he had nobody but himself to blame that the bottle had been left behind. Before they landed the singing had worked its mysterious charm, and the fisherman had almost forgotten his anger, and his bottle, too. "You tie up the boat, and make haste in, Bob," he said, as he took the little girl in his arms, and stepped out upon the shore. A light was shining in the window of the old boat-house, and Tiny was all impatience to get home and show her treasure to Dick. "Take it out of your pocket, daddy, and give it to me," she said, as they were crossing the sands; and the moment the door was opened she ran in, exclaiming, "I've got it! I've got it, Dick!" "Hush, hush, deary; Dick and Tom have gone to bed, and both are fast asleep. Come in and get your supper; it's been waiting ever so long for you." As she spoke, the poor woman cast several furtive glances at her husband, fearing that he was more than usually morose, as he had not spoken; but, to her surprise, he said, in a merry tone: "Bless you, mother, the little 'un has got something better than supper. Dame Peters wanted her to stay and have some hot potatoes; but she was in such a hurry to be off with her prize that she wouldn't look at the potatoes." "I've got some reading," said Tiny, in a delighted whisper, holding up her sheet of paper. "Why, what's the good of that?" exclaimed Mrs. Coomber, in a disappointed tone. "Nobody at the Point can read, unless it's the Hayes' at the farm." "And she'd better not let me catch her with any of them," put in Coomber, sharply.