'How long have I been here?'
'Let me see; it must be near fifteen months, now.'
'And who brought me?'
'A vessel captain. He said that just as he was hauling out of the dock at Boston, you jumped into the water with your child. One of his men sprang overboard and saved you. The vessel couldn't put back, so he brought you here.'
'Merciful heaven! did I do that?'
'Yes. You must have been sorely troubled, my child. But never mind—it is all over now. But hasn't Franky grown? Isn't he a handsome boy? Come here to grandma, my baby.' And the good woman sat down on a chair, while the little fellow ran to her, put his small arms around her neck, and kissed her over and over again. Children are intuitive judges of character; no really bad man or woman ever had the love of a child.
'Yes, he has grown. You call him Franky, do you?'
'Yes; we didn't know his name. What had you named him?'
'John Hallet.'
As she spoke those words, a sharp pang shot through her heart. It was well that her child had another name!