ain't afraid; Dod is tatin' tare of me," said the child, with a
little sigh.

Mrs. Coomber wondered whether she was thinking of the storm; whether she
could tell them who she was, and where her friends might be found; and
she ventured to ask her several questions about this, but failed to
elicit any satisfactory answer. The child was sleepy, or had forgotten
what Mrs. Coomber thought she would be sure to remember; but it was
evident she had taken notice of her surroundings during the last few
days, for after a little while she said, "Where's der boys--dat Dick and
Tom?"

Mrs. Coomber was amused. "They're out in the boat looking after the
nets," she said.

"When they toming home?" asked the little girl; "home to dis boat, I
mean," she added.

"Oh, they'll come soon," replied Mrs. Coomber. "But, now, can't you tell
me something about your mother and father, and where you lived, my
deary?" she asked again.

"I tomed in a s'ip, and 'ou my mammy now," said the child, looking round
the cosy room with perfect content.

"But where is your own mammy, who taught you to say your prayers?" asked
Mrs. Coomber.

The tears came into the sweet blue eyes for a minute as she said, "See
dorn up dere, to tay in Dod's house, and Tiny do too if see a dood dal."

Mrs. Coomber laid down the jacket she was patching, and kissed the
serious little face. "Is your mother dead, my deary?" she asked, while
the tears shone in her own eyes.

"See done to see daddy, and tell him about Tiny," answered the child;
from which Mrs. Coomber gathered that mother and father were both dead;
and when her husband came home she told him what she had heard, which
seemed to afford the old fisherman a good deal of satisfaction.

"Then she's ours safe enough, mother," he said, rubbing his hands, "and
when she gets well she'll toddle about the old boat like our own little
Polly did."

"But I thought you said Peters was going to see the newspaper man to
tell him to put something in the _Stamford Mercury_ about finding her,
so that her friends should know she was saved, and come and fetch her."

"I said her mother or father," interrupted Coomber, sharply; "but if
they're dead, there ain't anybody else likely to want such a little 'un,
and so we may keep her, I take it. But Peters shall go to the newspaper
man, never fear," added Coomber; "I don't want to rob anybody of the
little 'un; but if nobody don't come in a week, why then, Mary----" and
Coomber pau