“It was the most awfully tremendous thing with green and blue scales, a thousand times as big as the ship—­oh mamma!  What was that?”

Nellie started up from her stool and knelt beside her mother, looking towards the window.  Mrs. Goddard was deathly pale and grasped the arm of her chair.

“Somebody knocked at the window, mamma,” said Nellie breathlessly.  “And then somebody said ’Mary’—­quite loud.  Oh mamma, what can it be?”

“Mary?” repeated Mrs. Goddard as though she were in a dream.

“Yes—­quite loud.  Oh mamma! it must be Mary’s young man—­he does sometimes come in the evening.”

“Mary’s young man, child?” Mrs. Goddard’s heart leaped.  Her cook’s name was Mary, as well as her own.  Nellie naturally never associated the name with her mother, as she never heard anybody call her by it.

“Yes mamma.  Don’t you know?  The postman—­the man with the piebald horse.”  The explanation was necessary, as Mrs. Goddard rarely received any letters and probably did not know the postman by sight.

“At this time of night!” exclaimed Mrs. Goddard.  “It is too bad.  Mary is gone to bed.”

“Perhaps he thinks you are gone to the vicarage and that Mary is sitting up for you in the drawing-room,” suggested Nellie with much good sense.  “Well, he can’t come in, can he, mamma?”

“Certainly not,” said her mother.  “But I think you had much better go to bed, my dear.  It is half-past nine.”  She spoke indistinctly, almost thickly, and seemed to be making a violent effort to control herself.  But Nellie had settled down upon her stool again, and did not notice her mother.

“Oh not yet,” said she.  “I have not nearly finished about the sea-serpent.  Mr. Juxon said it was not like anything in the world.  Do listen, mamma!  It is the most wonderful story you ever heard.  It was all covered with blue and green scales, and it rolled, and rolled, and rolled, and rolled, till at last it rolled up against the side of the ship with such a tremendous bump that Mr. Juxon fell right down on his back.”

“Yes dear,” said Mrs. Goddard mechanically, as the child paused.

“You don’t seem to mind at all!” cried Nellie, who felt that her efforts to amuse her mother were not properly appreciated.  “He fell right down on his back and hurt himself awfully.”

“That was very sad,” said Mrs. Goddard.  “Did he catch the sea-serpent afterwards ?”

“Catch the sea-serpent!  Why mamma, don’t you know that nobody has ever caught the sea-serpent?  Why, hardly anybody has ever seen him, even!”

“Yes dear, but I thought Mr. Juxon—­”

“Of course, Mr. Juxon is the most wonderful man—­but he could not catch the sea-serpent.  Just fancy!  When he got up from his fall, he looked and he saw him quite half a mile away.  He must have gone awfully fast, should not you think so?  Because, you know, it was only a minute.”

“Yes, my child; and it is a beautiful story, and you told it so nicely.  It is very interesting and you must tell me another to-morrow.  But now, dear, you must really go to bed, because I am going to bed, too.  That man startled me so,” she said, passing her small white hand over her pale forehead and then staring into the fire.