Mrs. Codman had been carefully educated at a large expense, and was versed in all the accomplishments which are considered indispensable in a young lady's education nowadays. It was with no degree of hesitation on this point, therefore, that she set out this particular morning to present herself as an applicant for the post of governess. Having no influential friends, however, and not being able to present references from a former employer (this being her first essay in this line), she feared that her application would be unsuccessful. She could not but feel a considerable degree of anxiety, for her circumstances had become desperate, owing to the refusal of her former employers to give her any more sewing.

She dressed herself as neatly as her limited wardrobe would admit, and with hearty good wishes and many glowing predictions of success from her humble friend, Mrs. O'Grady, she set out.

Though some years past thirty, Mrs. Codman so far retained the freshness of youth, that she would hardly have been taken for this age. As a girl she had been very beautiful, and her womanhood did not belie her early promise. Her attire, though not expensive, was in good taste and characterized by a lady-like simplicity.

Such was the applicant for the post of governess, upon whom the curious eyes of Bert and her father fell as she was ushered into the breakfast-room by the servant, who had received orders to do so. She entered the room with the easy grace of a lady. Mr. Bowman at once recognized her claim to be considered such by deferentially rising, and inviting her to be seated.

"If I mistake not," he said, politely, "you are the lady who has been recommended to me as possessing excellent qualifications for the office of governess."

"Perhaps the recommendation was too strong and decided," said Mrs. Codman, modestly. "I shall be glad, however, to be considered an applicant for the position."

Here Mr. Bowman, who chanced to glance at Bert, detected her executing a surprising succession of winks, indicating the favorable impression which had been made upon her by the appearance of Mrs. Codman.

Already prepossessed in favor of the applicant, this was an additional inducement to engage her, as her success would depend, to a very great extent, upon the young lady's good-will.

"I suppose," he said, "you feel prepared to teach the branches and accomplishments usually included in the education of a young lady."

Mrs. Codman bowed.

"I ain't a young lady," interrupted Bert, at this point, who thought she was in imminent danger of becoming too learned.

"We hope you will be some time," said Mr. Bowman.

In reply, Bert winked once more.

There was a piano in the room.

"Will you favor us with a specimen of your playing?" asked Mr. Bowman.

Mrs. Codman sat down to the piano and played two pieces, one slow in movement, the other rapid, showing a nice touch and easy execution.

"Thank you," said Mr. Bowman. "I am inclined to think that I shall be glad to avail myself of your services. Should you be willing to engage for three months at first, to see how we are mutually pleased with each other? The pupil I have to offer you is a little addicted to mischief, and I don't know how you may like her."

"I am quite willing to enter into such an arrangement," said Mrs. Codman; "and in reference to the last point, I am quite sure I shall like my pupil. I begin to like her already."

"Do you?" said Bert, with much satisfaction, rising from the ottoman, and unceremoniously dropping the black kitten, who turned a somerset, and ran off shaking her head.

In answer, Mrs. Codman held out her hand with a smile.

Bert hurried across the room, and placed her own in it confidingly.

"I am so glad you do," said she. "You won't make me study my eyes out, will you?"

"That would, indeed, be a pity," said Mrs. Codman, looking at Bert's bright eyes, sparkling with fun and mischief.

Mr. Bowman observed these signs of agreement between Bert and her new governess with pleasure, and hastened to say, "In regard to business arrangements we will speak by and by. I think I can promise that they will be satisfactory to you."

It may be mentioned here, that Mr. Bowman, who was by no means disposed to deal parsimoniously with those in his employ, fixed Mrs. Codman's salary at six hundred dollars a year, which was four times as much as she had ever been able to gain by her needle.

"When may we expect you?" he asked. "You have, doubtless, some preliminary arrangements to make, for which you will please take whatever time you may require. Meanwhile, accept this sum in advance."

He drew from his pocket-book a fifty-dollar note, which he handed to Mrs. Codman. She could not feel any embarrassment in accepting a sum so tendered, and bowing her thanks, intimated that she would make her appearance on the following Monday, it being now Thursday.

The advance payment proved very acceptable to Mrs. Codman, as with it she was enabled to replenish her wardrobe, a step rendered necessary by her residence in Mr. Bowman's family. She was busily engaged for the remainder of the week in supplying its deficiencies.

No one could be more overjoyed than was the humble washer-woman at the success of her friend, of which she felt sure from the first, knowing Mrs. Codman to be a rale lady. The latter, feeling that she owed her present good fortune mainly to the zealous recommendation of her friendly neighbor, purchased a neat dress, which Mrs. O'Grady was prevailed upon to accept, on being convinced she would not thereby be distressing herself, a fact of which she was assured on being told of Mr. Bowman's liberality.

Yet there was, as the reader well knows, one thought which contributed to diminish the joy which Mrs. Codman would otherwise have felt at being restored, in a measure, to the mode of life to which she had been accustomed, and relieved from the necessity of unremitting labor in order to sustain life. This was, the thought of Charlie, her own brave, handsome boy, who had been the joy and life of her little household, now gone,—she knew not whither. The uncertainty as to his fate cost her many a sleepless night. She was sustained, however, by a strong confidence that he was yet living, and had little doubt that the suggestion of Peter Manson was correct, that he had been carried off by the captain of some vessel short of hands. Of course, she did not for an instant harbor the suspicion that Peter himself had had anything to do with his disappearance, being quite unaware that any motive existed powerful enough to tempt the old man to such a crime.

"I shall hear from him; I shall see him again," she said, with earnest conviction. "He is under the eye of Providence, wherever he may be, and no harm shall befall him."

Still, even with this strong feeling of trust, there was an uncertainty about the time when her wishes could be realized, which could not fail to weigh upon the mother's heart. Then there was the constant longing for his bright and enlivening presence, greater, because he was her only child, and she was a widow.

The furniture which Mrs. Codman had in her rooms she was enabled to dispose of without a very great sacrifice. She reserved a few articles, endeared to her by association, which she stored in the room of her friendly neighbor.

With her, also, she left a sum of money, sufficient to pay for her month's rent, which would not be due for a fortnight after her removal to the house of Mr. Bowman. Peter Manson was not a little surprised and disappointed when, on visiting his tenant,—prepared to witness her distress and hear entreaties for a reduction of her rent,—to find her already gone, and to hear that she had obtained an advantageous situation, though where, he was unable to ascertain, as Mrs. O'Grady, with whom he was no favorite, was not disposed to be communicative.

Leaving Mrs. Codman thus comfortably provided for, we must now follow the fortunes of our young hero, Charlie, whom we left securely bound in the forecastle of the Bouncing Betsey.