"Just look at that child, Isabel!" said a tall, bronzed gentleman
who was leaning over the taff-rail. "She is a perfect little fury!
I never saw a pair of eyes flash so. Very fine eyes they are, too.
A very beautiful child. Isabel! why, my dear, what is the matter?
You are ill--faint! let me--"

But the lady at his side pushed his arm away, and leaned forward,
her eyes fixed upon Star's face.

"George," she said, in a low, trembling voice, "I want to know who
that child is. I _must_ know, George! Find out for me, dear, please!"

As she spoke, she made a sign towards the boat, so earnest, so
imperative, that it caught Star's wandering gaze. Their eyes met,
and the little child in the pink calico frock, and the stately lady
in the India shawl, gazed at each other as if they saw nothing else
in the world. The gentleman looked from one to the other in amazement.

"Isabel!" he whispered, "the child looks like you. What can this
mean?"

But little Star, in the old black boat, cried, "Take me away, Bob!
take me home to my Daddy Captain! _Quick_! do you hear?"

"Jes' so" said Bob Peet. "Nat'rally!"