“I refused it, mother, but I am to get a reward.”
“Ah, Mark, what have you done?”
“Well, you see the yacht belonged to General Peyton, a millionaire merchant of Boston, and he had as guests on board some ladies, the Secretary of the Navy, and Commodore Lucien, of whom I have often read, you know.”
“Distinguished company, indeed!” said Mrs. Merrill.
“And rich enough to spare a few thousands and not miss ’em,” Peggy ventured, with an eye to the fact that the laborer was worthy of his hire.
“I got, or will get, what to me, Peggy, is worth far more than thousands, for the Secretary promises me a cadetship in the navy,” and Mark’s eyes flashed with pride, while his mother kissed him, and murmured
“My brave, noble boy! at last! at last the clouds have a silver lining.”
The next evening, true to their promise, the guests of the yacht landed and strolled up to the mansion.
They gazed about them with interest, and Commodore Lucien remembered having heard something of the tragic history of “Spook Hall,” and told it to those with him.
Mark joined them, and this time each one grasped his hand.