"Oh, yes," answered the child, "father takes us down there every Sunday. We love to stand on the bridge and watch the water dashing against the piers. It's such fun; you can't think."
"Could you go there alone?"
"Course I could; what do you want to know for?"
"Jerry is working there to-day, pet, and I have something important to tell him. If you can find your way to the mail-boat landing where he is helping to load up, and tell him to come to me right away, you'll be doing a good action."
"I wonder if mother will scold?"
"Tell her it was my doing, and if she will come hear my reasons she'll be satisfied. You'll hurry, won't you, dear?"
Miss Outcast promised, and, after repeating the message several times, started briskly off.
The river and the mail-boat were reached without trouble, but to find Jerry was another matter. A long stream of porters carrying bags of something reached from the wharf to the boat. Their heads were concealed by the burden, and their bodies looked so much alike that the child was bewildered.
She stood there, frightened and forlorn, almost forgetting why she had come, when Jerry himself caught sight of her.
"Why, little one," he exclaimed, dropping his load, and coming toward her. "What on earth are you doing here alone?"