It had been a warm, sunny day, the little waves had danced gaily, and the beach had been dazzling in the full glare of noonday, but the afternoon had been cooler, and at twilight the wind had changed from its warm quarter, to Northeast.

Snug and warm in the “Syren’s Cave,” they heard the wind rising until it became an actual gale.

The Captain had built a fire of drift wood, the squatty lamp on the table gave out a yellow glare, and around the table sat the three members of the family, the cat occupying the tiny rug in front of the fire.  Puss purred contentedly, blinking when the sparks snapped and twinkled.

Sprite bent over a fascinating book of fairy tales.  The pictures were charming, the stories held her captive.

Usually she enjoyed playing with puss in front of the fire, saving her book for stormy days, but she had opened the book to look at the softly tinted pictures, and the first story that held her attention was the “Tale of the Gold Children,” and she became so interested in their travels in search of their fortunes and of each other, that she could not put the book aside.

Her waving hair fell about her shoulders as she read, and the light from the big lamp shimmered upon it.

Mrs. Seaford, busy with her sewing, paused at times to look at the child absorbed in her book.

Captain Seaford, in a big arm chair, reading the “Cliffmore News,” looked exceedingly comfortable, but his wife knew that while he held the paper before him, he was merely glancing at the reading matter, while his mind was elsewhere.

Often he put the paper down, laying it across his knees as if he were done reading.  For a few moments he would sit thus, then again he would lift the paper as if he were endeavoring to keep his mind upon it, but finding it a difficult task.

A heavy gust of wind made the windows rattle, and shook the door as if clamoring for admittance.  A second later, something was hurled against the side of the house, as if the gale were using small pieces of driftwood for missiles.

The Captain arose, dropped his paper in his chair, and strode to the door.

He seemed to be trying to scan the horizon, as if looking for a sail, but no object, far or near could possibly be distinguished in the utter darkness that hung over land and sea.

He turned about, closed the door, and picking up the paper, seated himself once more before the fire, but he did not read, allowing the paper to lie idly on his knees.

“What is worrying you?” his wife asked gently, laying her hand upon his arm, and looking intently at him.  “Is it anything new?”

“It’s the same thing, dear, that has kept me fretting for the last three weeks,” he said slowly.

“When the vessel was two weeks overdue I was more anxious than I cared to admit, but now that the third week is nearly gone, I find myself unable to keep my mind upon the paper that I try to read, or for that matter upon anything else.”

“If any vessels intended coming in to-night, they would be obliged to get into some harbor where they would be safe until the sea is calm,” said Mrs. Seaford, “and that would make them a few days later, so we’ll still hope to see the one we’re looking for come sailing in with flying colors.”

Sprite, listening, while they thought that she was reading, now came around the table, and leaned against the Captain’s sturdy shoulder.

“Pa, I wish you wouldn’t worry, for some way I’m sure she’s coming in all safe, I’ll tell you why.  Now don’t you laugh.  I dreamed last night that she came sailing in with flags flying, and oh, her hull and her masts were of shining gold, so let’s think that means good luck.  Will you, Pa?” she coaxed, winding her little arms around his neck.

She could not bear to see him so worried.

“You’re a comfort, little Sprite, and your Ma is another.  Don’t seem reasonable for a man to fret with two such blessings in his possession, but the truth is I wanted the luck that I believed the vessel would bring, for you two dear ones, far more than I wanted it for myself.”

“Then don’t say you wanted it, for that does not sound hopeful,” Mrs. Seaford said.

“No, say you want it for us, for that sounds as if it were coming,” Sprite said, “and I’m sure it will come, only it’s delayed.”

He summoned up a smile for the child who was endeavoring to cheer him.

“I surely can truthfully say, ’I want it for you’,” he said.

“I have ventured all that I had on that ship’s cargo, because I believed it was sure to bring back a little fortune that would enable me to give greater comfort to your mother, Sprite, and you.”

“Well, it’s coming!  It’s coming!  I know it is.  I saw the golden ship last night in my dreams, and I sprang up and looked from the window, and the moonlight was making a bright, glittering path on the waves, just where, in my dream, the ship had been.”

She had left the Captain’s side to skip and dance about in her excitement, but now she came softly back to lean against him, as he sat in his big chair.

She laid her cheek against his a second, then looking into his kindly eyes, she said: 

“It is stormy to-night, and it may storm to-morrow, but when it clears, I know, oh, I just know the ship will come in.”

It was later than Sprite usually sat up, and the Captain pointed to the clock.

“It’s late even for a cheerful little prophet to be up,” he said, and Sprite danced away to her tiny chamber, happy in the thought that she had really cheered them.  The next day the storm continued, but at night the gale diminished, and on the following day the sun rose bright, and golden, giving promise of a fine day.

Sprite ran out onto the beach.

She looked far out across the dancing waves, to the horizon, where plainly she could see the sails of incoming vessels.

Was either one of these distant vessels the one for which the Captain was so eagerly looking?

“They all look alike ’way off there!” she murmured, but a moment later she whispered in disgust: 

“What a goosie I am!  Those vessels have only one sail!  They’re neither of them ships.  Who’d think I was a Captain’s daughter?”

Still she stood scanning the line where the sky and ocean met.  At any moment a big ship might come in sight, and she thought how quickly she would run to tell the news.  Then she hesitated.

No, she would not hasten to tell it, for it might indeed be a ship, and yet not the one for which the Captain had long been looking, or it might be one that was not bound for Cliffmore, but instead would go farther out to sea.

There was one sail on which the bright sunlight lingered, making it whiter than those of the other vessels, so that it was easier for her to watch that one than either of the others.

“Why!  It has turned about!” she cried, “and now, oh now, I see other masts and other sails!  It’s a ship!  It’s a ship!  Oh, is it the one that Pa longs to see?”

She would gladly have stood watching until that vessel sailed into Cliffmore, but a long, silvery note from the horn called her in to breakfast.

Her eyes were bright, and her cheeks pink with excitement, and the Captain looking across the table, sighed as he thought of all that he had planned to do with the money that he had so confidently expected.  He had built rosy air castles, had dreamed of comforts, and pleasures for the two dear ones who now sat opposite him at the table, the one full of hope, and cheer, the other trying to summon cheer that she did not feel, in order to comfort him.  The forenoon passed swiftly, because the three were busy.

Captain Seaford was making some repairs that the gale had made necessary.  Indoors Mrs. Seaford had needed the help of little Sprite in some work that she was doing, and when the noon hour came they could hardly believe the clock.

Sprite, usually eager to be out of doors, kept close at her mother’s side, pulling bastings from the garments that she was making.

Sometimes she paused to look from the window, then again she would busy herself with the bastings, and after a time, Mrs. Seaford, looking up, noticed with what rapt attention Sprite was gazing out at the ocean.

“What is it, Sprite?” she asked.  “Are you thinking of the dream vessel that you told us about last evening?”

“I can’t help thinking of it,” Sprite answered, “and truly I do believe the dream meant good luck.”  “I’d not wish you to believe very strongly in dreams,” Mrs. Seaford said, “but I’ll confess that ever since you told us that dream, I’ve been thinking of it, and, in some way, it has given me hope.”

The afternoon was spent much as the forenoon had been, save that the bastings were all out of the new garments, and while Mrs. Seaford still plied her needle, Sprite picked up the book of fairy tales, and tried to read.

There was one story that attracted her attention because its illustration showed a great ship, of ancient design.  The name of the story was “The Gift Ship,” and Sprite began to read.  Riches formed its cargo, jewels studded its masts, and its figure head, representing a mermaid, was of solid gold.

“Oh, that is grander than our ship was to be,” thought Sprite, and she allowed the book to lie idly in her lap, while she looked out at the floating clouds, and wondered where the white-sailed ship had gone that, at early morning, had floated along that distant point where sky and water met.

The captain looked in at the open door, and for a moment seemed to be studying the two who sat near the window.  Then he spoke.

“I’m going down to the wharf to see Jack Windom.  He wants my opinion of a fishing smack he’s thinking of buying.  I’ll not be gone long.”

He started off at a quick pace, but a few minutes later, Sprite saw, from her window, that the captain had met his friend when but halfway to the wharf.

“Oh, Ma, Jack has come up halfway to meet Pa.  I guess he was coming up to see if Pa had forgotten about going down to look at the new fishing smack.

“Why, Ma, they’re shaking hands.  They never do that.  Why, they are both coming back!”

Mrs. Seaford knew that something more than usual had happened.  She hurried to the door, just as the two men reached it, and then, the captain grasped both her hands, crying out in his excitement: 

“It has come in, dear!  It has come in!  The vessel that I’ve been looking for, longing for, worrying for is in safe and sound, and the cargo, if my friend Jack isn’t wild, is even more valuable than I had dreamed!

“Sprite!  Sprite!  Little girl, your dream has come true!”

What a day of rejoicing it was!

“The dream came true!  The dream came true!  The golden ship has come in!” cried Sprite, dancing about like a little wild thing, while Mrs. Seaford laid her slender hands on the captain’s shoulders, her eyes filled with happy tears as she quietly said: 

“For your sake, dear, I am so glad.”

Jack Windom, hardy sailor, and bluff, kindly friend, was more moved than he cared to admit.  He drew the back of his hand across his eyes, remarking that the sun was “tur’ble glarin’,” but his friends knew that he was fully in sympathy with them, and that his honest eyes had filled with tears, as happy as their own, because of the good luck that had come to them.

“I’m glad for ye, all three of ye, and I wish I could hev lent a hand ter hurried her in, but she’s here now, and I’m as glad as you be that she’s in safe an’ sound.  It’s a great day fer ye, Cap’n, an’ I’m glad, I declare I am.”

Captain Seaford again started for the wharf, this time to see not only the new fishing smack, but the vessel that had brought such great cheer to the little home, and with his arm locked in Jack Windom’s he hurried down the beach.

Mrs. Seaford and Sprite sat down to talk of their good fortune, and after a time little Sprite said: 

“I know I’m not to believe in signs or dreams, but truly I did see the new moon over my right shoulder, and I did dream of a golden ship.”

“So you did, dear,” Mrs. Seaford said, “and you cheered me wonderfully last evening just by your telling of your lovely dream.”

“That’s why I told it,” Sprite said.

“I thought while I was telling that, you’d not hear the gale, and by to-day the storm would have cleared away, and maybe the ship would come in, and it did.”

For a few moments the two sat thinking, then Sprite spoke again of the thoughts that filled her mind.

“Yesterday I tried to read a story in my fairy book, called ’The Gift Ship,’ but the ship’s masts were studded with jewels, and its figurehead was of pure gold, and some way it seemed too grand, too fine, while Pa was longing for just a plain ship like the other ships that we see every day.  I knew it was its cargo that he was anxious about, but the story seemed too good to be true, and I didn’t care to read it.

“Now, oh, now I can read it, and enjoy it, too, for no matter how grand the story ship is, Pa has seen the one that he has been looking for, and now we are happy.”

“Indeed we are,” Mrs. Seaford said; “we are thankful, too, Sprite.  Think how different would be our thoughts to-night if Jack Windom’s news had been that the vessel that your father had been looking for had foundered!

“We are thankful indeed, we are grateful, Sprite.  Oh, we are blessed with the best news that could have been brought to us,” said Mrs. Seaford.

“I wish we could celebrate in some way when Pa comes back,” Sprite said.

“We shall have to be thinking of supper now.  Suppose we go out together to set the table, and you shall help me to make it attractive.

“Come!  We’ll use our prettiest dishes, and we’ll set the rose-pink geranium in the center, and then we’ll see what we can do toward providing a treat.”