'I don't believe any one but you, Mary, would have such patience,' said Ellen, one of the maids, as she passed through the kitchen.
'Oh, Mary will have her reward one day,' laughed Elsie; 'you see if she doesn't, Ellen.'
But little did Elsie think, as she said these words, of what Mary's reward would be.
No one looking into the cook's sunny face would dream that she had any sorrow hidden in her heart; but it was so. Her dearly loved and only brother had gone away to sea, many years before, and from that day to this Mary had never heard a word of him. But so unselfish was she, that she would not allow her trouble to shadow any one else around her.
In the afternoon the girls wended their way to the neat little cottage-home where dwelt Mrs. Jones and her children. She was the widow of a sailor, and so poor that but for Mrs. Trevor's kindness she would often have been in great straits. Her face looked quite bright as she welcomed her visitors, and showed them into the back room where she had been sitting at needlework.
'We have brought you some pastry of our own making,' said Elsie, 'and some other things besides.'
'Then it's very, very kind of you, Miss,' was the grateful reply. 'I am well off just now, for I have a lodger for a few days, who pays me wonderfully well. He is a sailor man—a captain, I believe—and he says he once knew my husband. The children are in with him now,' went on the woman; 'he has taken a wonderful fancy to them all.'
Then said little May, who did not know what bashfulness was, 'I wish I might go and see him, too. I should so like to know if he has ever seen the island where Robinson Crusoe was wrecked.'
A peal of laughter greeted May's remark, but nevertheless her request was granted.
Five minutes later she was chatting to the 'sailor man' as if she had known him all her life.