“Ugh!” interrupted the woman, with a derisive shrug of her shoulders. “You’re the beatin’est child for seein’ handsomeness where ’tain’t.”
“Oh, I ’member you don’t like him much, ’cause onct he give short measure o’ flour, or somethin’, but he is good an’ I didn’t mean purty, an’ just listen!”
Jane did listen intently to the story of the grocer’s unusual generosity, and she hearkened, also, for the sound of a familiar, hesitating footstep and the thump of a heavy cane, such as would reveal the captain’s approach long before he might be seen, but the Lane was very silent. It was later than Glory suspected and almost all the toilers were in their beds. It was late, even for the flower-seller, who had been up-town to visit an ailing friend and had tarried there for supper.
Jane had always felt it dangerous for a blind man, like the old seaman, to go about the city, attended only by a dog, but she knew, too, that necessity has no choice. The Becks must live and only by their united industry had they been able to keep even their tiny roof over their heads thus far. If harm had come to him–what would become of Glory? Well, time enough to think of that when the harm had really happened. The present fact was that the little girl was famishing with hunger yet had a fine supper awaiting her. She must be made to eat it without further delay.
“Come, deary, we’ll step along an’ you eat your own chop, savin’ hisn till he sees fit to come get it. A man ’at has sailed the ocean hitherty-yender, like Cap’n Simon Beck has, ain’t likely to get lost in the town where he was born an’ raised. Reckon some them other old crony cap’ns o’ hisn has met an’ invited him to eat along o’ them. That Cap’n Gray, maybe, or somebody. First you know, we’ll hear him stumpin’ down the Lane, singin’ ‘A life on the ocean wa-a-ave,’ fit to rouse the entire neighborhood. You eat your supper an’ go to bed, where children ought to be long ’fore this time.”
Posy Jane’s tone was so confident and cheerful that Glory forgot her anxiety and remembered only that chop which was awaiting her. The pair hurried back to the littlest house which the flower-seller seemed entirely to fill with her big person, but she managed to get about sufficiently to relight the little stove, place Glory in her own farthest corner, and afterward watch the child enjoy her greatly needed food.
When Glory had finished, she grew still more happy, for physical comfort was added to that of her friend’s words; nor did Jane’s kindness stop there. She herself carefully covered the pan with the captain’s portion in it, and bade Glory undress and climb into her little hammock that swung from the side of the room opposite the seaman’s. This she also let down and put into it the pillow and blanket.
“So he can go right straight to sleep himself without botherin’ you, honey. Come, Bo’sn, you’ve polished that bone till it shines an’ you quit. Lie right down on the door-sill, doggie, an’ watch ’at nobody takes a thing out the place, though I don’t know who would, that belongs to the Lane, sure enough. But a stranger might happen by an’ see somethin’ temptin’ ’mongst the cap’n’s belongings. An’ so good-night to you, little Take-a-Stitch, an’ pleasant dreams.”
Then Posy Jane, having done all she could for the child she loved betook herself to her room in Meg-Laundress’s small tenement, though she would gladly have watched in the littlest house for the return of its master, a return which she continually felt was more and more doubtful. And Glory slept peacefully the whole night through. Nor did Bo’sn’s own uneasy slumbers disturb her once. Not till it was broad daylight and much later than her accustomed hour for waking, did she open her eyes and glance across to that other hammock where should have rested a dear gray head.
It was still empty, and the fact banished all her drowsiness. With a bound she was on her feet and at the door, looking out, all up and down the Lane. Alas! He was nowhere in sight and, turning back into the tiny room, she saw his supper still untasted in the pan where Jane had left it. Then with a terrible conviction, which turned her faint, she dropped down on the floor beside Bo’sn, who was dolefully whining again, and hugged him to her breast, crying bitterly, “They have got him! They have got him! He’ll never come again!”