The review went backward, man after man, happening after happening, to the meeting with his stepfather at the ash pile, and back of this to the boy in the street, who had told him a casual piece of news and asked him to the ball ground. Here was where it went out of him--the courage to do, and strive, and work, and win. He now realized that it was not the passing away of his mother and his sweet little sister, nor the mis-judgment of his stepfather and the ill treatment of men, that had unnerved him; it was the losing of Zenie, who had never looked at him but once, but whose presence on earth had made him a strong, victorious boy and a good scholar. And the heart hunger and pain that had left him at the ash pile came to him again. "Zenie!" he called almost inaudibly into the fog. "Zenie, come back! Come back to me!" A patter of footsteps on the wet deck aroused him, and he looked around. A small cloaked figure had just clambered over the breakwater, and it ran up to him, peering into his face with wide-open, wondering eyes. And they were the eyes of Zenie, set in the same clean-cut little face fringed with the same golden-hued tresses. "Did you call me, sir?" she asked. "Oh, I beg pardon. I thought I knew you, and that you called me. I don't know--" she stepped back. "My name is Zaza Munson." "Zaza!" called an anxious voice from the breakwater, and she left him. The bewhiskered man showed faintly through the fog. "Come along, kid, and go to bed. You mustn't bother the man on lookout. 'Tisn't shipshape." "Papa," said the child as he lifted her over the barrier, "was my name ever Zenie? Did you call me Zenie when I was little?" And Bridge, with his tongue hard against the roof of his mouth, and somewhat unsteady on his feet, could just hear the receding voice of the man as he answered: "No, kid; but your aunt's name was Zenie. She died the day before you were born. You're the dead image of her." Bridge did not see the child again. He thought of her, of course, marveling at the resemblance and relationship, which he ascribed to coincidence--that now had a meaning to him--but marveling the more at his change of heart, which he ascribed to the kindly thought and comment of the old lady. It began as a furious disgust at his waste of time and energy, but became a serious, practical ambition.