"Yes, so it is," said Mr. Bunker. "Thank you," he added to the captain's helper. "Now we are all right. We have found our lost little girl."
"I was wondering to whom she belonged," said the mate. "And I was going to tell the captain about her. Now I won't have to."
When Mr. Bunker and Russ went into the room, the little poodle dog raised up his head, opened one eye, and wagged his little stump of a tail, as if he were saying:
"It's all right. You don't need to worry. I'm taking care of Margy and she's taking care of me."
And it was Margy asleep in the bunk! Poor, tired, sleepy little Margy Bunker.
"My dear little girl," said Daddy Bunker softly, as he took her up in his arms. "We were so worried about you. Where have you been?"
"I—I founded a little dog," said Margy sleepily, as she put her head down on her father's shoulder. "He was a little white dog an' I loved him an' I went with him an' we went to—went to—we——"
And then Margy herself went to where she was trying to tell her daddy she had gone—to sleep.
"We'll ask her about it in the morning," said Mr. Bunker. "I'll carry her to her mother now, so she won't be anxious any more."
Margy was in slumberland once more, and so was the little white poodle dog. He just looked up, with one eye, when he saw Mr. Bunker carrying his little girl away, and then doggie went to sleep again also.