As the two men went slowly along the narrow passage way to their state rooms that night, the older man said to the other, “I guess you’re right, my brother; yes; you are right.  Good night, and pleasant sleep.”

CHAPTER II.

The next morning the sky was clear and the sea was much smoother.  The sun shone bright and warm; more people came on deck, rejoicing that they could live in the vigor of the open rather than in their stuffy state rooms.  The two seasick elders thought it wiser to remain quietly in their berths for another day, so Chester and Elder Malby had the day to themselves.  As the accident of the night before became known to the passengers, it was the topic of conversation for some time.

That afternoon Chester and his companion found a cosy corner on deck away from the cigar smoke, and had a long heart to heart talk.  The fact of the matter was that the young man found comfort in the society of his older brother.  For the first time in nearly two years Chester could pour out his heart to sympathetic ears, and he found much joy in doing this.

“Yes,” said Chester to a question, “I should like to tell you about myself.  When my story gets tiresome, call my attention to the porpoises, or declare that you can see a whale.”

“I promise,” laughed the other.

“Well, to begin at the very beginning, I was born in a suburb of Chicago, and lived in and near that city most of my life.  My mother’s name was Anna Lawrence.  I never knew my father, not even his name.  Yes, I can talk freely about it to you.  The time was when I shunned even the thoughts of my earthly origin and my childhood days, but I have gotten over that.  I have learned to face the world and all the truth it has for me.

“When I was but a child, my mother married Hugh Elston.  Shortly after, they both heard the gospel preached by a ‘Mormon’ elder, and they accepted it.  I had been placed in the care of some of my relatives, and when my mother now wished to take me, they would not give me up.  They were, of course, fearful that I, too, would become a ‘Mormon.’  Mr. Elston and my mother went west to Utah.  I was sent to school, obtained a fairly good education, and while yet a young man, was conducting a successful business.

“I had nearly forgotten that I had a parent at all, when one day, my mother, without announcement, came to Chicago.  She had left her husband.  Mother did not say much to any of us, but I took it for granted that she had been abused among the ‘terrible Mormons.’  After a time I took a trip out to Utah to see about it, meaning to find this Mr. Elston and compel him to do the right thing for my mother.  Well, I went, I saw, and was conquered.  Mr. Elston was a widower living in a spot of green called Piney Ridge Cottage amid the sage-brush desert,—­living there alone with his daughter Julia.  And this Julia—­well—­Do you see any porpoises, Brother Malby?”