“Not a stranger,” the girl’s voice was low with emotion. “I—I am Florence Huyler, your granddaughter.”
The effect on the old man was strange. Taking a step backward, he drew a hand across his face, then spoke as in a dream:
“My granddaughter? No! It cannot be. And yet, it could be so. I had a wife. She was beautiful.... I loved her.... She died.... All this was long ago. I could not go back. The call of gold got me, and—
“So you are my granddaughter,” his voice changed. The notion seemed unreal but pleasing to him. “My granddaughter! How strange!”
“They say,” Florence tried to smile, “that we look alike.”
“That so?” Tom Kennedy looked at her long and earnestly. “Big for a girl,” he murmured. “You look strong as a man.”
“I am,” Florence admitted frankly.
At that, Tom Kennedy looked at himself in a glass by the window. “Yes,” his eyes brightened, “yes, we do look alike. Welcome, child! Welcome to your grandfather’s cabin.” Seizing her hand, he held it for a moment with a grip that hurt.
“One more member for that gang of young pirates that haunt this cabin of mine,” he laughed. “You must meet them all, meet them and get to know them. They’re a fine lot, my gang. First thing I know you’ll be their leader, I’m bound. You’re a Kennedy and that means a lot.”
“Yes,” Florence replied with a smile, “I am sure it means a very great deal.”