Linnet played with the fringe of her shawl and looked as if something hard to speak were hovering over her lips.

“Did mother tell you about Will?” she asked, abruptly, interrupting one of Miss Prudence’s stories to Marjorie of which she had not heeded one word.

“About Will!” repeated Marjorie.  “What has happened to him?”

Linnet looked up with arch, demure eyes.  “He told mother and me while we were getting supper; he likes to come out in the kitchen.  The first mate died and he was made first mate on the trip home, and the captain wrote a letter to his father about him, and his father is as proud as he can be and says he’ll give him the command of the bark that is being built in Portland, and he mustn’t go away again until that is done.  Captain Rheid is the largest owner, he and African John, so they have the right to appoint the master.  Will thinks it grand to be captain at twenty-four.”

“But doesn’t Harold feel badly not to have a ship, too?” asked Marjorie, who was always thinking of the one left out.

“But he’s younger and his chance will come next.  He doesn’t feel sure enough of himself either.  Will has studied navigation more than he has.  Will went to school to an old sea-captain to study it, but Harold didn’t, he said it would get knocked into him, somehow.  He’s mate on a ship he likes and has higher wages than Will will get, at first, but Will likes the honor.  It’s so wonderful for his father to trust him that he can scarcely believe it; he says his father must think he is some one else’s son.  But that letter from the old shipmaster that Captain Rheid used to know has been the means of it.”

“Is the bark named yet?” asked Marjorie.  “Captain Rheid told father he was going to let Mrs. Rheid name it.”

“Yes,” said Linnet, dropping her eyes to hide the smile in them, “she is named LINNET.”

“Oh, how nice!  How splendid,” exclaimed Marjorie, “Won’t it look grand in the Argus—­’Bark LINNET, William Rheid, Master, ten days from Portland’?”

“Ten days to where?” laughed Linnet.

“Oh, to anywhere.  Siberia or the West Indies.  I wish he’d ask us to go aboard, Linnet. Don’t you think he might?”

“We might go and see her launched!  Perhaps we all have an invitation; suppose you run and ask mother,” replied Linnet, with the demure smile about her lips.

Marjorie flew away, Linnet arose slowly, gathering her shawl about her, and passed through the entry up to her own chamber.

Miss Prudence did not mean to sigh, she did not mean to be so ungrateful, there was work enough in her life, why should she long for a holiday time?  Girls must all have their story and the story must run on into womanhood as hers had, there was no end till it was all lived through.

“When thou passest through the waters I will be with thee.”

Miss Prudence dropped her head in her hands; she was going through yet.