"You t'ink? Do you know it mean 'happy,' 'fortunate,' and I am that, for I have few cares, and my husband does indulge every wish I can make. And your name, does it mean something good also?" "I have read somewhere that it means 'a princess,'" blushing more than before; "but that is hardly the meaning my name should have," giving a quick glance about upon her homely surroundings. "I do not know. You have the grand air, and—ah, I have it! I have it! You must be a King's daughter, a princess indeed!"
"But, madame, my father is plain Reuben Olmstead, a good and honest man, yet only a fisherman."
"But, no, my child, you do not yet comprehend. The King, it is thy Father in heaven, and thou must be one of those who call themselves the King's Daughters. It is a great society which does extend over the whole world of Christians, and each one of the members does take her pledge to do some good each day, for the help of mankind. It is 'in His name' that they do this, and their reward it is in heaven!" She spoke with great earnestness, and Sara listened breathlessly.
A princess, a daughter of the King of kings, endowed with the birthright of high thoughts and noble deeds, enrolled in the royal order of the Saviour of men! Surely here was a destiny grand and glorious enough to satisfy the highest ambition.
Her eyes darkened with the rush of thoughts that kept her silent, and finally she drew a long breath, looking up with such humility, yet kindling joy, that her words seemed but an echo of her glance.
"I will be one; teach me how!"
As she spoke, the baby who had been sitting on the doorstep contentedly sucking his orange, now broke through the rind of his yellow globe of sweets, to find nothing left but a bitter shell, and thereupon set up a wail and toddled over to Sara.
She lifted him up with tender words of comfort, applied a dampened towel to his sticky face and hands, then brought him in her arms to the doorstep again, where she seated herself near the madame, who had resumed her chair just within.
The absence of any adults in the house suddenly struck the latter, and she asked, "Where is then the mother, Mees Sara?"
"In heaven," said the girl softly. "She died when I was little; and poor baby Ned's followed her a few weeks ago, since father went for the long fish."