“Well, darling—­not so very, very old.  I think he is over forty.”

“Over forty—­four times eleven—­he is not four times as old as I am.  Almost, though.  All his stories are ever so many years ago.  He said he was sailing away ever so far, in a perfectly new ship, and the name of the ship was—­let me see, what was the name?  I think it was—­”

Mrs. Goddard started suddenly and laid her hand on the child’s shoulder.

“Did you hear anything, Nellie?” she asked quickly.  Nellie looked up in some surprise.

“No, mamma.  When?  Just now?  It must have been the wind.  It is such a horrid night.  The name of the ship was the ’Zephyr’—­I remember, now.”  She looked up again to see if her mother was listening to the story.  Mrs. Goddard looked pale and glanced uneasily towards the closed window.  She had probably been mistaken.

“And where did the ship sail to, Nellie dear?” she asked, smoothing the child’s curls again and forcing herself to smile.

“Oh—­the ship was a perfectly new ship and it was the most beautiful weather in the world.  They were sailing away ever so far, towards the straits of Magellan.  I was so glad because I knew where the straits of Magellan were—­and Mr. Juxon was immensely astonished.  But I had been learning about the Terra del Fuego, and the people who were frozen there, in my geography that very morning—­was not it lucky?  So I knew all about it—­mamma, how nervous you are!  It is nothing but the wind.  I wish you would listen to my story—­”

“I am listening, darling,” said Mrs. Goddard, making a strong effort to overcome her agitation and drawing the child closer to her.  “Go on, sweetheart—­you were in the straits of Magellan, you said, sailing away—­”

“Mr. Juxon was, mamma,” said Nellie correcting her mother with the asperity of a child who does not receive all the attention it expects.

“Of course, dear, Mr. Juxon, and the ship was the ‘Zephyr.’”

“Yes—­the ‘Zephyr,’” repeated Nellie, who was easily pacified.  “It was at Christmas time he said—­but that is summer in the southern hemisphere,” she added, proud of her knowledge.  “So it was very fine weather.  And Mr. Juxon was walking up and down the deck in the afternoon, smoking a cigar—­”

“He never smokes, dear,” interrupted Mrs. Goddard, glad to show Nellie that she was listening.

“Well, but he did then, because he said so,” returned Nellie unmoved.  “And as he walked and looked out—­sailors always look out, you know—­he saw the most wonderful thing, close to the ship—­the most wonderful thing he ever saw,” added Nellie with some redundance of expression.

“Was it a whale, child?” asked her mother, staring into the fire and trying to pay attention.

“A whale, mamma!” repeated Nellie contemptuously.  “As if there were anything remarkable about a whale!  Mr. Juxon has seen billions of whales, I am sure.”

“Well, what was it, dear?”