It is a wide step from the warmth of a mother's arms to the chill of the deep-sea water.

The gay tide of fashion ebbed and flowed just the same; the band played on the Chain Pier the morning following; the sunbeams danced on the water--there was nothing to remind one of the little life so suddenly and terribly closed.
There was not much more to tell.

There was an inquest, but it was not of much use.

Every one knew that the child had been drowned; the doctor thought it had been drugged before it was drowned; there was very little to be said about it.

Jim, the boatman, proved the finding of it.