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After a while the storm passed, and Nellie sat up, red-eyed and

red-nosed, but with a measure of her usual tranquillity restored.

"Idiot!" she told herself. "To howl like that over him!"

Nellie finally regained her poise of mind and remembered that she

had been at the point of writing a letter to her mother (to be

mailed by the first vessel bound to a port) when Nat had

interrupted her.

The table at which she sat was a rough, square one of oak, with

one drawer that extended its whole width. She opened the drawer

and found it stuffed with an untidy mass of paper, envelopes,

newspapers, clippings, books, ink, and a mucilage-pot that had

foundered in the last gale and spread its contents over

everything.

Such was her struggle to find two clean sheets of paper and a pen

that she finally dumped the contents of the drawer on top of the

table and went to the task seriously. The very first thing that

came under her hand was a heavy packet.