He paused and looked inquiringly at Sally, who nodded slowly.
"The very thing!" exclaimed her hostess. "Run ye and make arrangements, Cudje. But, mind ye—a shilling, no more! Tell Master Crane only a shilling!" When the aged darky had hurriedly departed, she turned complacently to Sally. "I knew Cudje could help us. He hath been such a comfort since Hans departed this life!"
The next morning found Sally wending her way toward the dock where Cudje told her lay Master Crane's little schooner. The old darky, who escorted her, was garrulous, as usual; but the young girl was silent and downcast. Scarcely admitting it to herself, she had been hoping against hope almost up to the last moment of being bidden farewell by Mistress Van Houten that, after hearing her pathetic tale, the wealthy, childless widow might offer to relieve the Todds of their unwelcome burden. Life in the quiet, orderly city house might have been very pleasant, thought Sally wistfully, tramping along in the gray dawn. She would have missed the companionship of little Mary, of course; but perhaps Mistress Van Houten would have allowed the child to come in for a visit. Sally pictured showing the wide-eyed little girl the sights and wonders of New York Town and going home afterward to have goodies in the pleasant room of the green-and-red cockatoo.
