"Law me!" he exclaimed, glancing through the window, "there's the Cap'n a-comin'. I'm jist goin' to give a look at what he's brought in. Come, chil'en," and the Captain disappeared with all three of the children at his heels, to go down to examine the treasures of the fishing-smack. Mr. Sewell seated himself cozily in the chimney corner and sank into a state of half-dreamy reverie; his eyes fixed on the fairest sight one can see of a frosty autumn twilight--a crackling wood-fire. Mrs. Pennel moved soft-footed to and fro, arraying her tea-table in her own finest and pure damask, and bringing from hidden stores her best china and newest silver, her choicest sweetmeats and cake--whatever was fairest and nicest in her house--to honor her unexpected guest. Mr. Sewell's eyes followed her occasionally about the room, with an expression of pleased and curious satisfaction. He was taking it all in as an artistic picture--that simple, kindly hearth, with its mossy logs, yet steaming with the moisture of the wild woods; the table so neat, so cheery with its many little delicacies, and refinements of appointment, and its ample varieties to tempt the appetite; and then the Captain coming in, yet fresh and hungry from his afternoon's toil, with the children trotting before him. "And this is the inheritance he comes into," he murmured; "healthy--wholesome--cheerful--secure: how much better than hot, stifling luxury!" Here the minister's meditations were interrupted by the entrance of all the children, joyful and loquacious. Little Moses held up a string of mackerel, with their graceful bodies and elegantly cut fins. "Just a specimen of the best, Mary," said Captain Pennel. "I thought I'd bring 'em for Miss Emily." "Miss Emily will be a thousand times obliged to you," said Mr. Sewell, rising up. As to Mara and Sally, they were reveling in apronfuls of shells and seaweed, which they bustled into the other room to bestow in their spacious baby-house. And now, after due time for Zephaniah to assume a land toilet, all sat down to the evening meal. After supper was over, the Captain was besieged by the children. Little Mara mounted first into his lap, and nestled herself quietly under his coat--Moses and Sally stood at each knee. "Come, now," said Moses, "you said you would tell us about the mermen to-night." "Yes, and the mermaids," said Sally. "Tell them all you told me the other night in the trundle-bed." Sally valued herself no little on the score of the Captain's talent as a romancer. "You see, Moses," she said, volubly, "father saw mermen and mermaids a plenty of them in the West Indies." "Oh, never mind about 'em now," said Captain Kittridge, looking at Mr. Sewell's corner. "Why not, father? mother isn't here," said Sally, innocently. A smile passed round the faces of the company, and Mr. Sewell said, "Come, Captain, no modesty; we all know you have as good a faculty for telling a story as for making a fire."