chiming faithfully ever since.

Yes, it was good to be home! Captain Cai would have been astonished to
learn that his thirty-five years at sea had left any corner for
sentiment. Yet a sudden mist gathered between him and the face of the
old clock. Nor had it cleared when, almost punctually on the last
stroke, a throng of children came pouring from school through the narrow
alley-ways. They ran by him with no more than a glance, not
interrupting their shouts. In a moment the Quay was theirs; they were
at leap-frog over the bollards; they were storming the sand-heap,
pelting a king of the castle, who pelted back with handfuls.
Captain Cai felt an absurd sense of being left out in the cold. Not a
child had recognised him.

All very well . . . but to think that these thirty-odd years had made
not a scrap of difference--that the Quay lay as it had lain, neglected,
untidy as ever! Thirty-odd years ago it had been bad enough. But what
conscience was there in standing still and making no effort to move with
the times? As Barber Toy said, it was scandalous.



CHAPTER III.


TABB'S CHILD.

"Three hundred pounds a-year . . ." mused Captain Cai between two puffs
of tobacco smoke. He repeated the words, rolling them in his mouth, as
though they tasted well. "You're pretty sure 'twill come to that?"