“I used to think it a great pity that he had not settled himself ashore in a good city practice,” continued Dr. Ferris.  “He had a great knack at pleasing people and making friends, and he was always spoiling for want of work.  I was ready enough to shirk my part of that, you may be sure, but if you start with a reasonably healthy set of men, crew and officers, and keep good discipline, and have no accidents on the voyage, an old-fashioned ship-master’s kit of numbered doses is as good as anything on board a man-of-war in time of peace.  You have mild cases that result from over-heating or over-eating, and sometimes a damaged finger to dress, or a tooth to pull.  I used to tell young Prince that it was a pity one of the men wouldn’t let himself be chopped to pieces and fitted together again to give us a little amusement.”

“That’s the name,” announced Nan’s guardian with great satisfaction.  “This is a very small world; we are all within hail of each other.  I dare say when we get to Heaven there will not be a stranger to make friends with.”

“I could give you more wonderful proofs of that than you would be likely to believe,” responded the surgeon.  “But tell me how you happened to have anything to do with the child; did Prince wander into this neighborhood?”

“Not exactly, but he fell in love with a young girl who was brought up on one of the farms just out of the village.  She was a strange character, a handsome creature, with a touch of foolish ambition, and soon grew impatient of the routine of home life.  I believe that she went away at first to work in one of the factories in Lowell, and afterward she drifted to Dunport, where young Prince’s people lived, and I dare say it was when he came home from that very voyage you knew of that he saw her and married her.  She worked in a dressmaker’s shop, and worked very well too, but she had offended his sister to begin with, one day when she was finding fault with some work that had been done for her, and so there was no end of trouble, and the young man had a great battle at home, and the more he was fought the less inclined he was to yield, and at last off he went to be married, and never came home again until he died.  It was a wretched story; he only lived two years, and they went from one place to another, and finally the end came in some Western town.  He had not been happy with his wife, and they quarreled from time to time, and he asked to be brought back to Dunport and buried.  This child was only a baby, and the Princes begged her mother to give her up, and used every means to try to make friends, and to do what was right.  But I have always thought there was blame on both sides.  At any rate the wife was insolent and unruly, and went flinging out of the house as soon as the funeral was over.  I don’t know what became of them for a while, but it always seemed to me as if poor Adeline must have had a touch of insanity, which faded away as consumption developed itself.