From the door of a state-room at the far end of the cabin a figure
appeared. A great shawl draped the small form; the golden hair, a flurry
of tangles, floated around it. Clinging to a brass rail that ran along
the side of the cabin, she approached, her eyes all alight as if well
satisfied with something. Amazed beyond power of action, the man
continued to gaze at her, at the tiny feet in the little pink slippers,
at something she carried. "By the great horn spoon, the Christmas doll!"
he muttered hoarsely. Then forgetting his purpose, the bottles, he
lurched quickly toward her.

"Wat you doin' here?" he demanded.

"I slipped out," said the child, holding the rail tighter, as perforce
she paused to answer. "I thought it would take only a moment."

"Slipped out?" he repeated.

"Of the life-boat, I mean. It was dark and they didn't see me. I just
happened to think, and I had to do it. If I'd told them, they mightn't
have let me. It would have been very wicked if I'd gone away and
forgotten--don't you think so? And now I'm going back! Only I am afraid
I've been longer than I thought I would be. The door of my state-room
seemed to stick, and I was a few minutes getting it open."

Beneath disheveled masses of thick dark hair, the brutish face continued
to study the fairylike one; for the instant words seemed to fail him.
"Do ye mean," he observed, "you come back here for that measly
dicky-bird?"