"Oh, it wasn’t over the match. But I’ll tell you all about it another time." And Dick nodded at the chair, as much as to say, "I don’t want Susie to hear." Jim took the hint, and being rather curious, pushed on quickly to the house. They were all near the little gate when his mother said,— "How very odd! Mrs. Hunt’s blinds are all down, and so are Mrs. Pettifer’s. There must be some one dead. I didn’t know either of them had any one ill." "A relative has died suddenly, perhaps," suggested Dick’s mother; while the boy, who trembled all over thought Jim would never get the front door open. At last it swung back, and the two boys lifted the carriage into the passage. Then, between them, they carried Susie into the back room and laid her gently on the couch. Meanwhile Mrs. Boden had gone on home, leaving word for Dick to follow; so, after wishing Susie and her mother good-bye, he went out, accompanied by Jim. "Come outside," he whispered, "and pull the door to. There’s bad news in the town." "Bad news!" echoed Jim, wondering why his chum trembled so. "Yes, that’s what upset Temple. It’s in the paper; but there’s only a line or two, and it mayn’t be true." "But what is it?" asked Jim, and, oddly enough, his voice sank to a whisper, while his face was as white as Dick’s. "It’s about the—the _Morning Star_," gasped the boy. Then Jim understood in a flash what had happened, and why the neighbours had darkened their windows. "Give me the paper," said he, "and let me see what it says." The paragraph was very brief, and ran thus:— "It is reported at Lloyd’s that the barque _Morning Star_ has been lost in a storm off Cape Horn. Some of the crew, including the chief mate, got ashore; but the captain, Robert Merritt, and the second mate, John Hartland, went down with the ship. The _Morning Star_ was owned at Cardiff, and was making for San Francisco with a general cargo." Jim read the paragraph over several times. The letters seemed blurred and running into one another; only the words, "the second mate, John Hartland, went down with the ship," stood out clear and distinct, as if raised above the surrounding type. "There may be a chance yet," suggested Dick, who was hurt by the look of pain on his chum’s face. "It isn’t certain that your father is drowned." "No," said Jim absently; "it isn’t certain." Then he put the paper into his pocket and turned to go in. "Shall I tell my mother to come round?" asked Dick. "Not to-night—thanks. No, we shall be better by ourselves."