'She wants me to hold her little hand,' I said, 'Timpey's little hand. Timpey must be her name!'
'I never heard of such a name,' said Mrs. Millar. 'Timpey, did you say? What do they call you, darling?' she said to the child.
But the little blue eyes were closing wearily, and very soon the child was asleep. I still held that tiny hand in mine as I sat beside her; I was afraid of waking her by putting it down.
'I wonder who she is,' said Mrs. Millar, in a whisper, as she folded up her little clothes. 'She has beautiful things on, to be sure! She has been well taken care of, anyhow! Stop, here's something written on the little petticoat; can you make it out, Alick?'
I laid down the little hand very carefully, and took the tiny petticoat to the window.
'Yes,' I said, 'this will be her name. Here's Villiers written on it.
'Dear me!' said Mrs. Millar. 'Yes, that will be her name. Dear me, dear me; to think of her poor father and mother at the bottom of that dreadful sea! Just think if it was our Polly!' And then Mrs. Millar cried so much again that she was obliged to go home and finish her cry with her little Polly clasped tightly in her arms.
My grandfather was very worn out with all he had done during the night, and went upstairs to bed. I sat watching the little sleeping child. I felt as if I could not leave her.
She slept very quietly and peacefully. Poor little pet! how little she knows what has happened, I thought; and my tears came fast, and fell on the little fat hand which was lying on the pillow. But after a few minutes I leaned my head against the sofa, and fell fast asleep. I had had no sleep the night before, and was quite worn out.
I was awakened, some hours after, by some one pulling my hair, and a little voice calling in my ear, 'Up! up, boy! up! up!'