"'I've been out sailing, missy.'
"'Joe, don't you know it's wicked to tell stories? You told us you should never go on sea any more.'
"'No more I didn't think I should, missy; and I don't suppose I ever should if I hadn't met you, though you won't understand that. However, I've give up the stage, and have taken to the sea again.'
"'I'm glad of that, Joe,' the eldest said, 'and mamma will be glad too.'
"'Why should mamma be glad, little one?' I asked.
"'Mamma will be glad,' she said positively. 'I know she will be glad when I tells her.'
"We'd sat down by this time, and I began to talk to them about their mamma. Mamma very good, very kind, very pretty, they both agreed; and then they went on telling me about their home in London, and their carriage and amusements. Presently they stopped, and I could see the eldest wanted to say something particular, for she puckered up her forehead as she always did when she was very serious; and then she said, with her hands folded before her, almost as if she was saying a lesson:
"'Mamma very happy woman. She's got two little girls and baby-brother, and papa love her so much; but there's one thing keeps her from being quite happy.'
"'Is there, missy?' I asked. 'She ought to be happy with all these things. What is it?'
"'Mamma once had someone do a great thing for her. If it hadn't been for him Nina and sissy and little baby-brother could never have been born, and papa would never have had dear mamma to love; but it cost the man who did it a great deal—all he cared for; and now he won't let mamma and papa and us love him and help him; and it makes mamma unhappy when she thinks of it.'