He did it, he said, “to distract his mind. The poor old imbecile! Why, this child was a firebrand, a wrecker, if ever he had seen one; and the worst kind because she was unconscious of her gifts. He heard the panting of the donkey-engine, then the slithering of the anchor chains. And here you are!” Her aunt opened all the fingers of her gloved hand in a rhetorical gesture. If she was in a position to help him she would help him; only it happened to be the other way round. He stood up abruptly and went to the window. " "Wait a bit, massa," replied the grinning negro,—"lilly bit—see all right fust. A quarter of an hour passed. Who is she, I say?” “My sister!” Annabel faltered.
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