“Hello, my hearties!” was his rumbling greeting when Carolyn May and Miss Amanda appeared.
“This is the little miss I’ve got to thank for savin’ me yesterday.”
“And my dog, sir,” said Carolyn May. “He’s downstairs by the stove. Of course, I couldn’t have brought you here on my sled, if it hadn’t been for Princey.”
“That’s a fine dog,” agreed the sailor. “I ain’t never seen a finer.”
Carolyn May warmed to him more and more at this enthusiastic praise. She prattled on gaily and soon had her “sailor man” telling all about the sea and ships, and “they that go down therein.”
“For, you see,” explained Carolyn May, “I’m dreadful cur’ous about the sea. My papa and mamma were lost at sea.”
“You don’t say so, little miss!” exclaimed the old fellow. “Aye, aye, that’s too bad.”
Miss Amanda had disappeared, busy about some household matter, and the little girl and the sailor were alone together.
“Yes,” Carolyn May proceeded, “it is dreadful hard to feel that it is so.”
“Feel that what’s so, little miss?” asked the man in bed.