But the little blue eyes were closing wearily, and very soon the child
was asleep. I still held that tiny hand in mine as I sat beside her; I
was afraid of waking her by putting it down.

'I wonder who she is,' said Mrs. Millar, in a whisper, as she folded up
her little clothes. 'She _has_ beautiful things on, to be sure! She has
been well taken care of, anyhow! Stop, here's something written on the
little petticoat; can you make it out, Alick?'

I laid down the little hand very carefully, and took the tiny petticoat
to the window.

'Yes,' I said, 'this will be her name. Here's _Villiers_ written on it.

'Dear me!' said Mrs. Millar. 'Yes, that will be her name. Dear me, dear
me; to think of her poor father and mother at the bottom of that
dreadful sea! Just think if it was our Polly!' And then Mrs. Millar
cried so much again that she was obliged to go home and finish her cry
with her little Polly clasped tightly in her arms.

My grandfather was very worn out with all he had done during the night,
and went upstairs to bed. I sat watching the little sleeping child. I
felt as if I could not leave her.

She slept very quietly and peacefully. Poor little pet! how little she
knows what has happened, I thought; and my tears came fast, and fell on
the little fat hand which was lying on the pillow. But after a few
minutes I leaned my head against the sofa, and fell fast asleep. I had
had no sleep the night before, and was quite worn out.