By rights, of course, Mrs.Bruce's husband should have been the gallant captain of a bark which foundered at sea and sent every man to his grave on the ocean-bed.

The ship's figurehead should have been discovered by some miracle, brought to the sorrowing widow, and set up in the garden in eternal remembrance of the dear departed.

This was the story in my mind, but as a matter of fact the rude effigy was wrought by Mrs.Bruce's father for a ship to be called the Sea Queen, but by some mischance, ship and figurehead never came together, and the old wood-carver left it to his daughter, in lieu of other property.

It has not been wholly unproductive, Mrs.Bruce fancies, for the casual passers-by, like those who came to scoff and remained to pray, go into the shop to ask questions about the Sea Queen and buy chops out of courtesy and gratitude.
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