She held out her hand, and with that same note of infinite pathos which he knew so well when she spoke straight from her heart, said as she laid her fingers in his: "Good-by, and God bless you, Harry." "Good-by, Kate," he murmured in barely audible tones.

"May I--may I--kiss you on the forehead, as I always used to do when I left you--" She bent her head: he leaned over and touched the spot with his lips as reverently as a sinner kisses the garment of a saint, then, choking down her tears, all her body unstrung, her mind in a whirl, she turned and passed out of the park.
That same afternoon Kate called her father into her little sitting-room at the top of the stairs and shut the door.
"Harry Rutter is going to sea as a common sailor on one of the ships leaving here in a couple of days.

Can you find out which one ?--it may be one of your own." He was still perfunctory agent of the line.
"Young Rutter going to sea!"-- the nomenclature of "my dear Harry" had ended since the colonel had disinherited him.

"Well--that is news! I suspect that will be the best place for him; then if he plays any of his pranks there will be somebody around with a cat-o'-nine-tails to take it out of him.

Going to sea, is he ?" Kate looked at him with lowered lids, her lips curling slightly, but she did not defend the culprit.