Suddenly Terry faced the girl. “Sally, is that old man any relation to you? Why are you in this terrible place?” Terry blurted out.
Tears came to the girl’s eyes. “He’s no relation to me. But I’ve been with them ever since I was ten years old. I can’t find my people. The one that is left is an uncle and he has disappeared.”
“Where are your father and mother?” asked Terry.
“They’re dead!” said Sally bitterly. “They’re both dead. I have no one now.”
“Who were they, Sally and why do you live here with Nancy Heron and Jim?”
Sally gave a gulp then turned to Terry and Prim.
“We were shipwrecked off the coast near here. My father was Captain David Wyn of the Riverside, a small coast steamer running between St. Johns and American ports. Whenever we could, mother and I always went with father. That’s what we liked best. It was lots of fun to go on the ship.” Sally paused, her voice choked with a sob.
“There, there dear, don’t talk about it if it hurts you, Sally!” said the sympathetic Terry, and Prim clasped the girl’s hand. “I’m so sorry for you. But I knew from the first that you didn’t belong to these dreadful people. You couldn’t.”
“Don’t cry,” Prim soothed her.
“I want to tell you. I want to talk about it. That terrible, terrible storm! Sometimes I dream about it, even yet. And I see my father carried away by a big wave when the ship smashed on the rocks. It was horrible. I’ll never forget!”