By Berwen Banks

"Yes, uncle, I'll do my best, whatever. I had better go and get his

sheets aired at once." And she left the room, glad to hide her pale

face and trembling hands from her uncle.

Once outside the bedroom door, she crossed her hands on her bosom, as

though to stop the tumultuous beating of her heart. What was going to

happen? Should she hear Cardo's name from Captain Owen? Could she

find her way to the docks? and as a gleam of sunlight shone in through

the little window in the linen cupboard, she thought what a bright and

happy place Fordsea was after all.

She hurried through her domestic preparations, and then, after a

consultation with her uncle, made an expedition into the market,

ordering supplies for the following days. When she returned, the front

door was open, and, entering the passage, she heard loud voices in her

uncle's room, and gently pushing the door open, saw a rough-bearded,

blue-eyed man standing by the bedside.

"Well, that's all settled, then; you'll let the young man have my

rooms? 'Twill only be for two or three days. And this is your niece?

Well, upon my word, I begin to repent of my bargain. Hard lines for

me! to be tied to the docks night and day to watch those repairs, while

my young friend comes here to be taken care of and fussed about by my

old friend and such a pretty girl."

Valmai felt disappointed; she had hoped to learn something from their

guest of Cardo and his whereabouts.

"I am sorry," she said, as he took his departure, "that you can't stay

here."

The gallant captain taking her hand, looked admiringly at the blushing

face.

"By Jove, and so am I; but dooty is dooty, my dear, especially your

dooty to your ship. Good-bye, come and see you again soon." And once

more Valmai was left to conflicting emotions.

The day passed quickly, while she divided her attention between her

uncle's wants and her preparations for the guest who was to arrive

about six o'clock. Mrs. Finch would prepare the tea and roast the fowl

which was to accompany it, and Valmai added little dainty touches of

flowers and lights for the table.

"We won't light the candles till he knocks at the door; and when he has

once sat down to his meal, I can manage about taking it out; but I am

very nervous. I wonder what he will be like."

Her uncle knocked and called incessantly, giving fresh directions and

asking innumerable questions, in his anxiety that his friend's friend

should be made comfortable under his roof. At last everything was

ready, a bright fire burning in the grate threw its glow through the

open door of the adjoining bedroom, and flickered on the

prettily-arranged dressing-table. All looked cosy and home-like, and

when everything was completed, Valmai retired to put on a fresh frock

of white serge.