their state-rooms
and so on; and somehow he caught hold of my little satchel and was
swinging it on his finger when Mrs. Reed sent for me. And before I could
get back to him, the ship was ready to start; all who were not
passengers were put ashore; somebody shouted an order, and the vessel
began to move. When, at last, I saw him, we were some distance from
shore; and he was standing on the dock looking after me, with my satchel
in his hand! We both had forgotten it--and there was nothing for me to
do but to sail on to America without it."

"Were the things in that satchel?" cried Don. "Where is the man? Is he
living?"

Her eyes filled with tears. "No, I shall never see him again in this
world," she said.

Her grief was so evident that Donald, whose disappointment struggled
with his sympathy, felt it would be cruel to press her further. But when
she dried her eyes and looked as if she were about to go on with the
story, he could not forbear saying, in a tone which was more imploring
than he knew: "Can't you tell me what was in that satchel? Try to
think."

"Yes, indeed, I can," she said, plaintively; "there was the picture of
the babies and me; the baby Dorothy's dress ribbon; my purse and the
key--"

"A key!" cried Donald. "What sort of a key?"

"Oh, a little bit of a key, and gloves, and my best pocket-handkerchief,
and--most of all, Mrs. Reed's letter--"

"Mrs. Reed's letter!" echoed Don. "Oh, if I only could have had that and
the picture! But do go on."

"You make me so nervous, Mr. Donald--indeed you do, begging your
pardon--that I hardly know what I'm saying; but I must tell you how each
of the things had got into my hands. First, the picture was my own
property, and I prized it very much, though I had not the courage to
show it to Mrs. Reed; then the pink ribbon was for baby Dorothy. My lady
had handed it to me at the hotel when we were dressing the twins; and in
the hurry, after cutting off the right lengths to tie up the dear little
sleeves, I crammed the rest into my satchel."

"And the key? what about the key?"

"Oh, you see, baby Dorothy had worn a chain from the time she was a week
old. It fastened with a key. Mr. Reed himself had put it on her little
neck and locked it the very day before he was taken down, and in the
hurry of dressing the babies, as I was telling you, Mrs. Reed let fall
the speck of a key; it was hung upon a bit of pink ribbon, and I picked
it up and clapped it into the satch