Honey-Sweet Part 3

But Anne shook her head. "That wouldn't sound 'spectful," she objected; "and Patterson is your 'Mrs.' name." Then her face brightened. "Oh! Her name can be Mrs. Emily Patterson, and I'll call her a pet name. I don't like nicknames, but pet names are dear. She shall be what Aunt Charity used to call me--'Honey-Sweet.' I can sing it like she did:--

"'Honey, honey! Sweet, sweet, sweet!

Honey, honey! Honey-Sweet!'"

As Anne crooned the words over and over, her voice sank drowsily. When Miss Drayton went a few minutes later to turn out the light, Anne was fast asleep, smiling in her dreams at Honey-Sweet who lay smiling on the pillow beside her.

CHAPTER V

The shipboard day pa.s.sed, uneventful and pleasant. Anne had made for herself an explanation of her uncle's absence, which no one had heart to correct.

"He's nawful busy, Uncle Carey is," she explained. "I reckon he stayed there talking to Roger--he always has so many things to tell Roger to do!--and the boat was gone before he knew it. So he just had to wait. I 'spect he'll come on one of those other boats. Wouldn't it be funny if one of them would come splashing along right now and Uncle Carey would wave his hand at me and say 'h.e.l.lo, Nancy pet! Here I am.'"

Mrs. Patterson put a caressing hand on the child's head but did not speak. Lying back in her steamer chair, she looked across the gray-green water and thought and wondered. Presently Anne crumpled her steamer rug on the deck and nestled down in it. She chirped to Honey-Sweet and wiggled her finger at the smiling red mouth, playing she was a mother-bird bringing a fat worm to her nestling. Hour after hour, while Miss Drayton and Mrs. Patterson read or talked together, Anne would sit beside them, sometimes chattering and 'making believe' with Honey-Sweet, sometimes prattling to her grown-up friends about her old home in Virginia or her life in New York.

Mrs. Patterson petted her and made dainty frocks for Honey-Sweet. Brisk, practical Miss Drayton gave Anne spelling lessons and set her problems in number work, protesting that she was too large a girl to spend all her time playing and looking at fairy-tale books, blue, red, and green.

Why, she did not even read them except by bits and s.n.a.t.c.hes, but made up tales to fit the pictures, and told over and over the stories that were read to her.

She was always ready to drop a book for a romp with Pat Patterson.

Bounding about the deck together, they looked like a greyhound and a St.

Bernard--she slim and alert, he with his rough hair tumbling over his merry, freckled face. Often their games ended by her stalking away with Honey-Sweet, in offended dignity. Pat was such a tease!

"Isn't that a pretty doll?" he said one day, with suspicious earnestness. "I say, lend her to me awhile, Anne."

Anne objected.

"Oh, you Anne! You wouldn't be selfish, would you?" wheedled Pat.

"Didn't I lend you my bow and arrows yesterday? And I always give you half my macaroons. Just hand her over for a minute. Let me see the color of her eyes."

"You know they are blue--like the story-book princess,--'her eyes were as bright and as blue as the sky above the summer sea,'" quoted Anne, reluctantly letting him take her pet.

"Blue they are. D'ye know, Anne, I think she'd make a capital William Tell's child. Don't believe she'd be afraid for me to shoot the apple off her head. Let's see."

Before Anne could interfere, Pat had suspended Honey-Sweet to a hook out of her reach. A ball of string was fixed on her head by means of a wad of chewing-gum.

Then Pat stepped back, drew his bow, and made a great show of aiming his arrow at the pretended apple.

"How brave she is! She does not wink an eyelid," he said solemnly. "To think! to think! If me aim be not true, I'll ki-ill me child," he exclaimed, shaking with mock fear and dismay.

"Oh, Pat, Pat, don't!" implored Anne, grasping his arm.

"Away, away!" said Pat, drawing back. "Me heart failed but for a moment. William Tell is himself once more. Behold!" And he took aim again.

"Stop him! stop him! Don't let him shoot Honey-Sweet!" cried Anne.

Miss Drayton looked up quickly from her book.

"Patrick Henry Patterson!" she said severely. "Shame on you! Stop teasing that child. Give her the doll this instant--this instant, sir!"

Anne hugged her regained pet and walked away, carefully avoiding Pat's mischievous eyes. A few minutes later, a bag of macaroons slipped over her shoulder, and a merry voice announced: "William Tell gives this to his br-rave, beloved child." And before Anne could speak, Pat was gone to join some other boys in a game of ring toss.

With a forgiving smile at him, she sauntered on and stood gazing over the railing at the motley crowd in the steerage. She was looking for the Irish mother with three curly-haired children. She wanted to share her macaroons with them. They always looked hungry, and it was really as much fun to throw them bonbons as to feed the greedy little squirrels in Central Park. The children were not in sight, however, and Anne loitered, leaning on the rail. She felt rather than saw some one watching her. Looking down, she met for a fleeting second the dark, intent eyes of a steerage pa.s.senger, a man in a coa.r.s.e shirt and blue overalls. His face--as much of it as she could see under the broad soft hat pulled over the eyes--was covered with a dark scrubby beard.

On a sudden impulse, Anne leaned forward and called in her clear little voice: "Here, you man in blue overalls! catch!"

The man started violently, and the macaroons rolled on the deck. He leaned forward and seemed intent on picking up the fragments, but his hand shook so that it was slow work. "Thank you, little lady," he said after awhile, in a gruff voice. "I hope you have good friends."

"Indeed, I have. Have you?"

Perhaps he did not hear her. At all events, he moved quickly away, without raising his head. Then Pat came, calling Anne. He wanted her to hear what a man was telling about the headlands that were beginning to take form on the horizon. Their voyage was almost over. In a few hours, they would reach Liverpool.

The dock was entered at last and with as little delay as possible Mrs.

Patterson's party drove to the Roxton Hotel. No one noticed that the carriage was followed closely by a shabby cab. Unseen, its pa.s.senger--a man in blue overalls with a soft hat pulled over his eyes--watched the little party enter the hotel. Then he alighted, paid his fare, shouldered his canvas travelling bag, and disappeared down a dingy street.

CHAPTER VI

"What news for Anne?" wondered Miss Drayton as they drove to their hotel. Captain Wards had sent a wireless message to the New York chief of police, asking that Anne's relatives be informed of her whereabouts and that tidings of them be sent to Miss Drayton at the Roxton Hotel in Liverpool. Awaiting her, there were two cablegrams. Both were from the New York chief of police. One was in these words: "No trace Mayo. Will find and notify child's other relatives." The other cablegram read thus: "No trace any relatives of child. Letter will follow."

Miss Drayton handed the cablegrams to her sister resting in an easy chair before the sea-coal fire which chased away the gloom of the foggy morning.

Mrs. Patterson read the messages thoughtfully. "It is her disappointment that grieves me," she said, looking at Anne who was sitting in a corner teaching Honey-Sweet a spelling lesson. "For myself, I should like to keep her always. A dear little daughter! I've always wanted one."

"Ye-es," said Miss Drayton, doubtfully, "but--we know so little about this child. Her uncle a felon! Who knows what bad blood is in her veins?"

"That child?" Mrs. Patterson laughed, glancing toward Anne. "Why, she carries her letters of credit in her face. Look at that earnest mouth, those honest eyes. I'd trust them anywhere."

"Oh, well!" Miss Drayton put the subject aside. "Her people will turn up and claim her. There are lots of them, it seems. She's always talking about Aunt This and Uncle That and Cousin the Other. Why, Emily! You ought to have had your tonic a quarter of an hour ago. And a nap."

That evening the subject of Anne's relatives was brought forward at the dinner table by the child herself. Seeing her eyes rove shyly around the room, Miss Drayton said, "You look as if you were watching for somebody or something. What is it, Anne?"

"I was thinking," replied the child, "maybe--there are so many people in this big room--maybe Uncle Carey is here and can't find me."

The truth--as much of it as was necessary for her to know--might as well be told now and here. "Anne," said Miss Drayton, "we telegraphed back.

There is no news of your uncle. He--he missed the boat. We don't know where to send a message to him. Try to be content to stay with us until some of your home people claim you."

"I don't want to be selfish, Anne dear, but I'm not longing for any one to claim you," said Mrs. Patterson, with a caressing smile. "I didn't know how dreadfully I needed a little daughter till you came. I don't want to give you up. How nice it will be some day to have a big daughter to take care of me!"

Anne looked up with shining, affectionate eyes. "I'm most big now, you know, Mrs. Patterson," she said. "I'm eight years old and going on nine.

I love to be your girl, but--" her lip quivered--"I do wish I knew where Uncle Carey was."

"Suppose, Anne, you write to some of your relatives," suggested Miss Drayton,--"any whose addresses you know. The Aunt Charity you speak of so often--where does she live? Is she your mother's sister or your father's?"