The little boy, looking up, broke into a wail of despair.

"Betty! Betty! Betty!" he cried. "I wanted to kiss you, Betty."

Betty held out her arms. She did it with entire forgetfulness of the
existence of any lookers-on, and with such outreaching love on her
face that it seemed as if the child must feel her touch. She made a
beautiful, warm, consoling bud of her mouth.

"We'll kiss each other from here, Tommy," she said. "See, we can. Kiss
me, and I will kiss you."

Tommy held out his arms and the magnificent donkey. "Betty," he cried,
"I brought you my donkey. I wanted to give it to you for a present,
because you liked it."

Miss Vanderpoel bent further forward and addressed the elderly woman.

"Matilda," she said, "please pack Master Tommy's present and send it to
me! I want it very much."

Tender smiles irradiated the small face. The gangway was withdrawn, and,
amid the familiar sounds of a big craft's first struggle, the ship began
to move. Miss Vanderpoel still bent forward and held out her arms.

"I will soon come back, Tommy," she cried, "and we are always friends."

The child held out his short blue serge arms also, and Salter watching
him could not but be touched for all his gloom of mind.