“That, my child, it is strange!” The little lady smiled a curious smile. “He does not know, nor do I. It is a very large island, this I know. He is well. He is not alone. He is very short of food, but hopes to find more presently. He will, in time, find his way off this island. He is convinced of that. And so am I. And then, my dear, then—”
“I shall see him!” This came from June as a cry of joy.
“Then you shall see him.”
“Wha—what is my father like?”
For a full moment the little lady looked at her without reply. Then she said, “He is short and rather stout. He is jolly.”
“See?” Florence whispered in June’s ear.
“He has always been well-to-do,” the little lady went on. “Now he may be rich. It is strange. His thoughts are clouded on that point. It is as if he had been rich, as if for the moment great wealth had escaped him, but that in a short time he hoped to regain it.
“And now—” her words appeared to fade away. “Now I must ask you to excuse me from further talk.”
At that moment Florence experienced a peculiar sensation. It seemed to her that with the fading of the little lady’s words she also faded. She seemed to all but vanish.
“Pure fancy!” Florence shook herself, and there was the little lady, bright and smiling as ever.