"It's father!" cried Hope, as she scrambled to her knees to peer out,
but she could see nobody on the narrow guards without.
Meanwhile Faith grasped the little packet and began to untie it,
forgetting her illness in her eagerness.
The paper, when opened, disclosed two sea biscuits--the square, thin
kind, like a soda cracker--and upon each was painted a tiny marine view
in water-colors, while beneath was a couplet done in fanciful
lettering. One read,
"Hope for a season bade the world farewell,
And Freedom shrieked--as Kosciusko fell,"
while the other bore the legend,
"Our Faith, a star, shone o'er a rocky height;
The billows rose, and she was quenched in night."
"How absurd! How funny! Who did it?" they cried in concert,
forgetting all ill feelings as they laughed till the tears came.
"It never was father," said Hope, when she could get her voice. "The
dear man couldn't repeat a line of poetry to save his life. That one
about Kosciusko used to be in one of our school speakers, don't you
know?"
"Yes, it's Campbell's." Faith always remembered more accurately than
her sister, while the latter learned more readily. "But who would ever
think of applying it so oddly? The play on our names is bright enough,
but--I'll tell you, I'll tell you! It was that boy--Dwight Vanderhoff.
I just believe it! He is clever, I'm sure, and his uncle could help
him."
"As likely as not--or Mr. Malcolm--but no, I don't believe he would.
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