“She's to be company for you on the lighter, Courage, and a little maid of all work besides.”
“Spesh'ly I'se to wash up,” Sylvia volunteered, beaming from ear to ear.
“What do you mean?” asked Courage, with considerable dignity, seeming to realize at a bound the relation of mistress and maid.
“Mean dat on boats dere's allers heaps an' heaps to wash up—pots an' kittles an' dishes an' lan' knows what—an' dat me's de one dat's gwine do it. A-washin' of demselves is all de washin' dat's 'spected of dose little lily white han's, Miss Courage, case de Cap'n say so—didn't yer, Cap'n?” whereupon Sylvia gave a marvellous little pirouette on one foot, that made pigtails and skirt describe a larger circle than ever.
“Yes, that's what I said,” answered Larry, rather taken aback by this performance, and wondering if he had gotten more than he had bargained for in this sable little specimen, chosen somewhat at random from the half dozen presented for his inspection at an asylum the day before. But Courage had no fears, and saw in anticipation delightful opportunities for no end of fun, and, when it should be needed, for a little patronizing discipline. Meanwhile Bruce, who seemed unquestionably worried as to what sort of a move was pending, had made his way out of doors, and taken up his stand near the boy who stood in waiting with a hand-cart, ready to carry the trunk to the boat. When at last the trunk was in the cart, with Sylvia's bundle atop of it, and it became evident that the little party were actually on their way to the lighter, his delight knew no bounds, and he flew round and round after his tail, as a relief to his exuberant feelings.
Courage kept tight hold of Mary Duff's hand all the way. Of course it was going to be lovely out on the water all summer, and with Larry; but oh, how she wished Mary was to be there too! But that always seemed to be the way somehow—something very nice and something very sad along with it. Glancing ahead to Sylvia, who, with a jolly little swing of her own, was trotting along at the side of the cart, steadying her bundle with a very black hand, Courage wondered if she had found it so too, and resolved some day to ask her.
The good-byes were said rather hurriedly at the last. Mary Duff first went down into the cabin with Courage and helped to unpack her trunk. Then, when finally there was nothing more for her to do, there was just a good hard hug and two or three very hard kisses, and then you might have seen a familiar figure disappearing around the nearest corner of the dock, and Mary Duff was gone. As soon as she was out of sight she stopped a moment and wiped the tears from her eyes with a corner of her shawl, for they were fairly blinding her, and then hurried right on to the little cripple, to whom her coming was to prove the very most blessed thing that had ever happened. As for Courage, she went to her own little room and had a good cry there, and though neither of them knew of the other's tears, the skies soon looked clearer to them both. But there was one pair of eyes in which tears were not for a moment to be thought of. Tears! with the great orphan asylum left behind and all the delights of life on that beautiful boat opening out before her? No indeed! Let Miss Courage have her little cry out if she must, but for Sylvia, a face wreathed in smiles so broad as to develop not unfrequently into an audible chuckle. And so while Courage was trying to get herself in hand, for she did not want Larry to know how badly she felt, Sylvia, acting under orders, was as busy as could be, setting the table in the cabin, and making supper ready in the tiny kitchen.
When Courage again came on deck, the lighter had cleared the wharf and was well out upon the river. Larry was at the helm, and she made her way straight to him and slipped her hand in his, as much as to say, “I'm yours now, you know, Larry,” and Larry gave it a tight little squeeze, as much as to say, “Yes, I know you are, dear,” and they understood each other perfectly, though not a word was spoken.
“Don't you think I had better call you uncle or something instead of just Larry?” said Courage after she had stood silently at his side for ever so many minutes.
“Why?” asked Larry, amused at the suggestion.