"God has given us the little 'un back, mother," he said, placing the child in his wife's arms. "He's been good to me, better than I deserved, only the Lord Jesus Christ has died for me, and that explains it all."
His heart was full of joy and gratitude to-night, and he forgot his usual shyness, and told his wife of the good news he had heard at Fellness, both for body and soul. "Now, mother," he said, as he concluded, "you and I must both begin a new life. We must ask God to help us like this little 'un, and we must teach our boys to do the same. We owe it all to her," he added, as he kissed Tiny, "for if she hadn't come among us, we might never have heard about God down here at Bermuda Point."
CHAPTER VIII.
BRIGHTER DAYS.
The dreary winter came to an end at last, and with the first spring days there was a general bustle of preparation in the fisherman's family, for boat and nets alike required overhauling, and there would be a good deal of repairing to do before the old boat would be fit for further use.
Bob's face was fast losing its sullen, defiant, angry look, and he was whistling as merrily as a lark one morning, when he and Coomber went to remove the tarpaulin that had been covered over the boat during the winter; but the whistling suddenly ceased when the boat was uncovered, for, with all their care, the winter's storms had worked sad havoc with the little craft. Seams were starting, ribs were bulging, and there were gaping holes, that made Coomber lift his hat and scratch his head in consternation.
"This'll be a tough job, Bob," he said.
"Aye, aye, dad, it will that," said the lad, carefully passing his finger down where one rib seemed to be almost rotten.