The next morning Miss Prince’s sense of general well-being seemed to have deserted her altogether.  She was overshadowed by a fear of impending disaster and felt strangely tired and dissatisfied.  But she did not believe in moping, and only assured herself that she must make the day an easy one.  So, being strong against tides, as some old poet says of the whale, Miss Prince descended the stairs calmly, and advised Priscilla to put off the special work that had been planned until still later in the week.  “You had better ask your sister to come and spend the day with you and have a good, quiet visit,” which permission Priscilla received without comment, being a person of few words; but she looked pleased, and while her mistress went down the garden walk to breathe the fresh morning air, she concocted a small omelet as an unexpected addition to the breakfast.  Miss Prince was very fond of an omelet, but Priscilla, in spite of all her good qualities, was liable to occasional fits of offishness and depression, and in those seasons kept her employer, in one way or another, on short commons.

The day began serenely.  It was the morning for the Dunport weekly paper, which Miss Prince sat down at once to read, making her invariable reproachful remark that there was nothing in it, after having devoted herself to this duty for an hour or more.  Then she mounted to the upper floor of her house to put away a blanket which had been overlooked in the spring packing of the camphor-wood chests which stood in a solemn row in the north corner of the garret.  There were three dormer windows in the front of the garret-roof, and one of these had been a favorite abiding-place in her youth.  She had played with her prim Dutch dolls there in her childhood, and she could remember spending hour after hour watching for her father’s ship when the family had begun to expect him home at the end of a long voyage.  She remembered with a smile how grieved she had been because once he came into port late in the night and surprised them all early in the morning, but he had made amends by taking her back with him when he hurried on board again after a hasty greeting.  Miss Prince lived that morning over again as she stood there, old and gray and alone in the world.  She could see again the great weather-beaten and tar-darkened ship, and even the wizened monkey which belonged to one of the sailors.  She lingered at her father’s side admiringly, and felt the tears come into her eyes once more when he gave her a taste of the fiery contents of his tumbler.  They were all in his cabin; old Captain Dunn and Captain Denny and Captain Peterbeck were sitting round the little table, also provided with tumblers, as they listened eagerly to the story of the voyage.  The sailors came now and then for orders; Nancy thought her handsome father, with his bronzed cheeks and white forehead and curly hair, was every inch a king.  He was her hero, and nothing could please her so much to the end of