"Went down with the ship!" A simple phrase enough, and not uncommon, but perhaps it is as well that we do not always realize the misery and sorrow lying behind it.
A deep hush fell as Susie finished reading. The sun had gone down, the evening shadows were gathering fast; soon it would be time to light the lamp, but no one moved.
A loud rat-tat at the door startled them; and Jim, going out, found a messenger boy with a telegram. It was from the owners of the Morning Star, but contained no further information than had appeared in the evening paper.
"It is very kind of them," said Mrs. Hartland "but I am glad you told me first, Jim."
"We don't know yet that father is drowned!" exclaimed Susie stoutly. "He might have been picked up by another ship. I have read of such things."
Neither Jim nor his mother answered her; the idea was too wild to be considered seriously.
The boy did not realize all that his father's death meant to him, for he was young, and his experience of life had not been great. But his mother, while grieving bitterly for the dead man who had loved her so devotedly, had to think of the living.
Through the long night hours, while the children forgot their sorrow in sleep, she lay thinking, thinking earnestly about their future. She had planned great things for Jim, had built splendid castles in the air for him; and now, at a blow, they came tumbling about her ears.
"Poor boy!" she said softly to herself; "I fear it will change the whole of his life."
CHAPTER IV.