"Charling," she interpolated; "the other names don't matter. I've got six of them."
"That we will support—no, maintain—eternal friendship."
"And I, Charling, swear the same to you, Harry."
"Why do they call you Charling?"
"Oh! because my name's Charlotte, and mother used to sing a song about Charlie being her darling, and I was her darling, only I couldn't speak properly then; and I got it mixed up into Charling, father says. But let's go on. Tell me your sad history, poor fellow-wanderer."
"My father was a king," said Harry gravely; but Charling turned such sad eyes on him that he stopped.
"Won't you tell me the real true truth?" she said. "I will you."
"Well," said he, "the real true truth is, Charling, I've run away from home, and I'm going to sea."
Charling clapped her hands. "Oh! so have I! So am I! Let me come with you. Would they take a cabin-girl on the ship where you're going to, do you think? And why did you run away? Did they beat you and starve you at home? Or have you a cruel stepmother, or stepfather, or something?"