That smile won Mrs. Thurston. She watched to see who was with the little girl, and seeing no one she inquired of the captain:
"Tell me, who is with that beautiful child?" Her face was diffused with tender, earnest solicitude as she gazed at the little figure lying at their feet.
"No one, apparently; she seems to be alone."
The captain then related to Mrs. Thurston how the little girl had taken money from her shoe and offered it to him for her fare.
Pappina began to talk in her sleep.
"He struck me," she murmured. "It hurt me so!" They tried to make out her words, so jumbled at first, then clearer and louder, till she fairly screamed: "Guiseppe, how dare you strike me? Marta, hold him. I hate him! I wish he were dead—I do, for I hate him!"
Mrs. Thurston stooped and took hold of the child's hot little hand.
"See how flushed her face is!" she whispered. "Her pulse is too quick; she is feverish, poor child," she said with pity as she gently picked her up and placed her on a sofa.
"She is my charge and I'll stay with her," she told the friends who urged her to go on deck and enjoy the beautiful scenery.