"Yer poor pa," he said, "and two others with him.
How did I know he was your poor pa? Along of his havin' your poor
ma's pictur hung round his neck. And a fine-lookin' man he was, to
be sure!"
"And his name was 'H. M.'!" cried the child, eagerly.
"Them was the letters of it!" assented the Captain. "Worked on his
shirt and hank'cher, so fine as ever was. Well, Jewel Bright, when
I seed all this, I says, 'January,' says I, 'here's Christian corpses,
and they must have Christian burial!' I says. So I brought 'em all
up to the house, and laid 'em comfortable; and then I gave you a good
drink of warm milk (you'd been sleepin' like a little angil, and only
waked up to smile and crow and say ''Tar'), and gave you a bright
spoon to play with; and then I rowed over to shore to fetch the
minister and the crowner, and everybody else as was proper. You don't
care about this part, Honeysuckle, and you ain't no need to, but
everything was done decent and Christian, and your parents and the
other two laid peaceful under the big pine-tree. Then the minister,
when 'twas all done, he says to me, 'And now, my friend,' he says,
'I'll relieve you of the child, as would be a care to you, and I can
find some one to take charge of it!' he says.
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