CHAPTER XXIV
THREE SMALL SURVIVORS
It did not take Uncle Tom very long, experienced as he was, to bring thethree children back to consciousness. As it was, they had been moreaffected by the cold and the fright than anything else, for the raft,crude as it was, had kept them above the surface of the waves and savedtheir lives.
As the girls bent over them eagerly, helping Uncle Tom as well as theycould, the faint color came back to the pinched little faces, and slowlythe children opened their eyes.
"Oh, they are alive, bless 'em," cried Billie, jumping to her feet. Butthe quick action seemed to terrify the children, and they cried out inalarm. In a minute Billie was back on her knees beside them, looking atthem wonderingly.
"Why, what's the matter?" she asked, putting out her hand to the littleboy, who shrank away from her and raised an arm before his eyes. "Why,honey, did you really think Billie would hurt a nice little boy likeyou?"
But all three children had begun to cry, and Billie looked helplessly ather chums.
Uncle Tom had spread a large rug on the floor and had laid the childrenon it while he worked over them. Up to this time he had been on his kneesbeside the girls, but now he got to his feet and looked down at themsoberly.
"Somebody's been mistreating 'em," he said, his eyes on the threecowering, pathetic little figures. "Poor little mites--poor little mites!Found 'em on a sort of raft, you say? Washed up by the waves?"
The girls nodded, and Billie, putting a tender arm around the littlefellow, succeeded in drawing him up close to her while Laura and Vi triedto do the same with the little girls. Connie was watching her Uncle Tom.
"H'm," said the latter, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Folks on theship probably--drowned out there. Poor little waifs. Kind of up to us totake care of 'em, I reckon."
"Of course it is," cried Connie, jumping to her feet. "Uncle Tom, wheredid Mother and Daddy go?"
"On, toward the house," said Uncle Tom, nodding his head in the directionof the bungalow. "When they couldn't find you they got kind o' worriedand thought you must have made tracks for home."
"Here they come now," cried Laura, for through the windows she had caughtsight of Mr. and Mrs. Danvers hurrying along the walk toward thelighthouse.
"Oh, I'm glad," said Billie, hugging the little boy to her and smoothinghis damp hair back from his forehead. The child had stopped crying andhad snuggled close to Billie, lying very still like a little kitten whohas found shelter and comfort in the midst of a wilderness. The softlittle confiding warmth of him very suddenly made Billie want to cry."Your mother will know what to do," she said to Connie.
"Mother always does," said Connie confidently, and a minute later openedthe door to admit two very much wind-blown, exhausted and very anxiousparents.
"Oh, kiddies, what a fright you gave us!" cried Connie's mother, lookingvery pale and tired as she leaned against the door post while Mr. Danverspatted her hand gently and tried not to look too much relieved. "Wheredid you go? Why, girls----" She stopped short in absolute amazement andbewilderment as she caught sight of Laura and Vi and Billie on the floor,each with a child clasped in her arms. "Where did you get them?"
She did not wait for an answer. She flew across the room and, dropping toher knees, gazed at the children who at this new intrusion had startedaway from the girls and regarded her with wide, doubtful eyes.
"Why, you precious little scared babies, you!" she cried, pushing thegirls away and gathering the children to her. "I don't know where youcame from, but what you need is mothering. Where did they come from?" sheasked, looking up at Uncle Tom.
"From out there," said Uncle Tom gravely, waving his hand toward the spotwhere the ship had gone down. Then he quickly told her and Mr. Danverswhat the girls had told him. They did not interrupt. Only, when he hadfinished, Mrs. Danvers was crying and not trying to hide it.
"Oh, those poor, poor people!" she sobbed. "And these poor littlefrightened, miserable children all, all there is left. Oh, I'll never getover the horror of it. Never, never! John," she added, looking up at herhusband with one of those quick changes of mood that the girls hadlearned to expect in her, "will you and Tom help me get the childrenhome? They mustn't be left like this in dripping clothes. They'll catchtheir death of cold. What they need is a hot bath and something to eat,and then bed. Poor little sweethearts, they are just dropping for sleep."
So Uncle Tom took one of the little girls, Mr. Danvers another, andConnie's mother insisted upon carrying the little boy.
"Why, he's nothing at all to carry," she said, when her husbandprotested. "Poor child--he's only skin and bones."
So the strange procession started for the bungalow, the girls, tired outwith nerve strain and excitement, bringing up the rear. But they did notknow they were tired. The mystery of the three strange little waifswashed up to them by the sea had done a good deal to erase even thehorror of the wreck.
"And we haven't the slightest idea in the world who they really are orwhom they belong to," Connie was saying as they turned in at the walk."It is a mystery, girls, a _real_ mystery this time. And I don't know howwe'll solve it."
But they forgot the mystery for the time being in the pleasure of seeingthe waifs bathed and wrapped in warm things from the girls' wardrobes andfed as only Connie's mother could feed such children.
Gradually the fear died out of the children's eyes, and once the littleboy even reached over timidly and put a soft, warm hand in Billie's.
"You darling," she choked, bending over to kiss the little hand. "You'renot afraid of Billie now, are you?"
The little girls, who were twins and as like as two peas, were harder towin over. But by love and tenderness Connie's mother and the girlsmanaged it at last.
And then eyes grew drowsy, tired little heads nodded, and Connie'smother, with a look at Mr. Danvers, who had been hovering in thebackground all the time, picked up one of the little girls and startedfor the stairs.
"I'm going to tuck them in bed," she said, speaking softly. "We can putthem in our room, John--in the big bed."
A few minutes later the girls stood in Mrs. Danvers' room, looking downat three little flushed faces, three tousled heads that belonged to threevery sound-asleep little children.
Connie's mother tiptoed out of the room and motioned to the girls tofollow, but they lingered for a minute.
"Aren't they lovely?" asked Connie, with a catch in her voice.
"They're beautiful," said Laura. "Especially the little boy."
"And they ate," said Vi softly, "as if they had been half starved. Poorlittle things--I wonder who they are?"
"Girls," said Billie gravely, "I suppose you will laugh at me when I tellyou, but ever since I first saw them I have had a strange feeling----"
"Yes," they said impatiently, as she paused.
"That I have seen them somewhere before," she finished, looking at themearnestly. "And now, as they lie there I'm almost sure of it."
"Seen them before?" repeated Connie, forgetting in her astonishment tolower her voice, so that the little boy stirred restlessly. Billie drewthem out into the hall.
"Come into our room," she said; and they followed her in wonderingsilence.
"I wish you would say that all over again, Billie," said Vi eagerly, whenthey had drawn their chairs up close to Billie. "You said you had seenthem before?"
"No, I said I thought I had seen them before," said Billie, frowning withthe effort to remember. "It seems foolish, I know----"
"But, Billie, if you feel like that you must have some reason for it,"said Laura eagerly.
There followed a silence during which Billie frowned some more and thegirls watched her eagerly. Then she disappointed them by suddenly jumpingup and starting for the door.
"Well," she said, "I can't remember now. Maybe I will when I've stoppedtrying to. Come on, Connie, let's help your mother with the dishes."
But Billie did not find the answer for sev
eral days. Meanwhile they hadreceived word from the boys that they had put into port the afternoon ofthe great storm and had not been able to go out again until a couple ofdays later. No news concerning the three waifs had come in.
The boys had received news of the wrecked ship, of course, and weretremendously excited about it.
"You girls have all the luck, anyway," Chet wrote to Billie. "Justthink--if we had stayed over a few hours we would have seen the wrecktoo."
Billie tore the letter up and flung it into the paper basket.
"Luck!" she had murmured, her face suddenly grown white as she gazed outover the water that was brilliantly peaceful once more in the afternoonsunlight. "He calls _that_ luck!"
The boys had promised to return in a couple of weeks and give the girls aregular "ride in the motor boat." If it had not been for the waifs whohad so strangely been entrusted to them, the girls would have lookedforward more eagerly to the return of the boys.
As it was, they were too busy taking care of the sweet little girls andbeautiful little boy and falling in love with them to think much of theboys one way or another except to be deeply thankful that they hadescaped disaster in the storm.
And then, when Billie had nearly forgotten that strange impression shehad had in the beginning of having seen the children before, suddenly sheremembered.
It was one night after the girls had gone to bed. They had been laughingover some of the cunning things the children had been doing, and Laurahad been wondering how they would go about finding the relatives of thechildren--if they had any--when suddenly Billie sat up in bed with a lookof astonishment on her face.
"Girls," she cried, "I know where I saw those children."
"Oh, where?" they cried, and then held their breath for her answer.
"In Miss Arbuckle's album!"