Jeff Benson, or the Young Coastguardsman

“The gratitude o’ that poor old man and his daughter knew no bounds, specially when he found I was the father of his Clara’s favourite schoolmate.

“‘Now, Captain Millet,’ says he at partin’, ‘nothin’ in this world can repay what we owe you. I know it would be insultin’ to offer you money for such service, but sometimes men like you like to help a good cause. Will you accept of five hundred pounds for such a purpose?’

“‘No sir,’ says I, ‘I won’t! But I’ve a sister at home who spends all her time in tryin’ to do good. If you’ll be kind enough to send it to her, she’ll consider it a blessed windfall, and will lay it out to the best possible advantage.’

“‘Good,’ said he, seizin’ his pen an’ writin’ out the cheque. ‘Is your sister well off?’

“‘She might be better off,’ said I.

“‘Then pray beg her in my name to accept of a few shares in an Australian tin-mine which came to me a few days ago. They are not worth much, but I don’t want to be troubled with them; indeed, will consider it a favour if she will take them off my hands.’

“The old fellow said this with a laugh—so there you are, Molly, 500 pounds to the credit of your charity account an’ I don’t know how much tin transferred to your own.”

“O brother, how good—how kind!” Miss Millet paused here, and gazed in silence at the cheque, for she had already begun to calculate how far that sum would go towards the library, and the church, and the town-hall, and the model-houses, and the gymnasium, and the swimming-bath.

“And now, young man,” said the captain, turning to our coastguardsman, “the missin’ of that steamer, at which I growled so much that day, turned out to be a great blessin’ after all, although it seemed such a misfortune. For it caused me to arrive just in the nick of time to save two human lives—besides givin’ the old girl here somethin’ to think about and work upon for the next twelvemonth to come—whereas, if I had arrived the day before, I would have bin sleepin’ in the house, and mayhap have bin burnt alive wi’ old Nibsworth and his daughter. Seems to me as if that little story had some sort o’ bearin’ on the subject you was discussin’ wi’ Molly. But I’m not good at drawin’ morals, so I’ll leave you to draw it for yourself.”