"Well, now, _I_ should say, Never wade across a South American river at all," said Miss Millet; "but, brother, that's not what I meant. Before you arrived, Jeff and I had been talking about God's ways with man, and I was trying to show that disasters and what we call misfortunes are not necessarily evil, but are often the means of great blessing. I don't think Jeff quite sees that. I can't explain myself clearly, brother; but you know what I mean." While the old lady was speaking, the captain had become thoughtful. "Yes, I know what you mean," he replied, "and I agree with you heartily. Is it not written of our Saviour, `He hath done all things well?' and is He not unchangeable? Of course it is not to be expected that we shall always see through and understand His ways though we can always trust Him; but sometimes He lifts a corner of the veil and lets us see. Very odd, Molly," continued the captain, extracting a large black pocket-book with some difficulty from a breast-pocket, "very odd that you should have touched on this question, for I have somethin' to say to you that bears on it. Look here. What's that?" He handed an oblong piece of paper to his sister, who examined it slowly. "Why, Dick, it's a cheque for 500 pounds." "Just so, old girl, an' it's yours." "Mine!" "Ay, I might have given it to you when I first came back, but I took a fancy to keep it as a little surprise for our last evenin' together, so that I might leave you with a good taste in your mouth. Now, listen, an' I'll spin you an' Jeff a yarn. But first fill up my cup. I'm fond o' tea--nat'rally, bein' a teetotaler. Up to the brim, Molly; I like a good bucketful. Thankee--now, let me see." The captain put his hand to his rugged brow, became thoughtful for a few moments, and then resumed. "Just before startin' on my last voyage to China I ran down to Folkestone to see Rosebud--that's my little daughter, Jeff. Surely you must have seen her when knocking about here?" "You forget, Captain, I have not been in these parts for six years. Nevertheless, I did see Rosebud some ten or twelve years ago with her nurse in this very room." "Yes, so you did," chimed in Miss Millet. "She was six at that time, and the dearest little angel I ever saw." "She was all that and a great deal more," said the enthusiastic father. "It don't become me to have much of an opinion about the angels, but I wouldn't give my Rosebud for the whole lot o' them, an' all the cherubs throw'd into the bargain. Well, as I was sayin', I ran down to Folkestone to the school where she is, and as we were partin' she made me promise when I got to Hong-Kong to run up the river to see an old schoolmate o' hers that had gone out there with her father. I was to give Clara Rosebud's dear love, and her photograph, and get hers in exchange. I would have done this, of course, for my darlin', anyhow, but I promised all the more readily because I had some business to do with old Nibsworth, the father.