the good woman one day. The little
girl having fallen asleep on her couch, she covered her carefully with a
rug. 'One would think she had known us all her life, she's that fond of
us.'

'I shall be sorry enough when she goes,' returned Jack, in a hushed
voice. 'So will you be. You haven't been nursing her for so long, and
loving and caring for her as none knows better how to do, without
feeling as if she was a bit like a child of your own. Oh, I know you,
Mother! She's a little lady and no mistake; but come what may, neither
you nor I will ever look upon her quite as we do on other people, nor
she on us--I'll be bound. That's Jack Wright's opinion, right or wrong,'
he wound up, laughing noiselessly.

Mrs. Wright smiled. It was evident she agreed with him, having just as
soft a spot in her heart for the little waif as he had.

'I'm sorry in one way,' went on Jack, sitting down on the settle and
lighting his pipe; 'sorry we can't find the little Missie's friends. But
somehow I can't be properly sorry either. It is funny how one has a
double sort of feeling about it. I'd be really anxious about her if she
was taken away from us before she was well, and I'd miss her pretty eyes
and her "Thank you, Jack!"'

Mrs. Wright was bending over the fire, cooking their mid-day meal of
Scotch broth, and apple dumplings, while keeping a watchful eye upon a
dainty dish of fish for the child. She smiled at her son, but a little
sigh escaped her also as she shook her head.

'I won't be saying that you did not take trouble enough to find her
people,' she remarked. 'I should love to keep her here, but it makes me
all the more grieved for her friends. It's hard on them to lose a dear
little girl like that. I suppose your skipper had such a fright with
that gunboat that he will not be likely to take another trip to English
shores?'

'We only got off by the skin of our teeth as it was,' replied Jack, with
a grin at the recollection. 'After all, the Frenchman owed his escape to
an Englishman being at the helm. He looked pretty grim about it. He has
no taste for fines, but it's a jolly sight worse when they have to be
paid into British pockets. He never had quite such a narrow shave as
this one, and I fancy he will not be in a hurry to cruise in that
direction again.'

'What will you do, then?'

'Wait. There's nothing else for it. I have no money, and I don't know
where the child came from, nor how far she floated. I don't know the
coa