"Wal," said that composed personage, "I hope you got a drink of milk worth having." "Yes; but why did you not tell me that the woman was your wife?" answered the stranger. "Cause you didn't ask me. But how is the old woman?" "She seems well and was very kind." "Wimmen are kind by natur," said the sailor, shutting his jackknife with a jerk, the only sign of impatience yet visible. "But I reckon I'll jest step in and see how she gets along, if you don't want me tu go about Boston streets with you right away." "No, no. I shall not remain in Boston, and can find plenty of guides where I am going." "Don't want me to carry this ere bag for you, nor nothin'?" asked the man a little anxiously, as he gave up the traveller's bag. "No, no; I prefer to carry it myself. But you are master of that house?" "Yes, generally; when my wife ain't to home." "In that case I have some boxes on board the ship, and should like to place them under your care for a few weeks, could they be moved to your house." "Jes so," answered Brown. "Then take charge of them. I will leave an order on board the ship." "Jes so." "And pay you well for the trouble now in advance." "Jes so," answered Brown, holding out his hand for the money. "Now, if you've no objections, I'll go up to the house, for I'm afeared the old woman will be kinder expecting me." The stranger took his leathern bag from the ground and walked one way, while Jason Brown went to the farm-house; not rapidly, for he, too, was ashamed of being in a hurry to see his wife; but with a step that would grow quick and impatient spite of his philosophy. "Jason, is that you?" cried Goody Brown, getting out of her loom and meeting her husband half way to the door. "How have you been?" "Tough and hearty; but where's the children? I don't see no cradle nor trundle bed." The wife did not speak, but began twisting the strings of her apron over her finger. Jason looked at her earnestly. He saw a single tear drop to her bosom and sink into the cotton kerchief folded over it. "Jason, they're both gone. The trundle bed is took down and the cradle is up in the garret." "Gone, Prudence, gone! Where?" "Dead, Jason. They both died of fever in one week." Another tear came rolling down that still face and fell upon a great horny hand which was held out to take that of the woman. Those two hard-working hands shook in each other's clasp a moment, then Jason Brown drew his gently away and left the house. He wandered down to the shore, seated himself upon the turf of a broken bank, and took from his pocket the jackknife and piece of wood that he had stowed away there. He opened his knife with dismal slowness and gave a whistle which at once resolved itself into a low wail inexpressibly sad. Then the knife and the wood dropped from his hands, and he sat still, looking at them helplessly, while great tears rolled down his cheeks. CHAPTER VII. THE UNEXPECTED VISITOR.