“Because he’s a sailor and has been away across the ocean—right to the place my papa and mamma were going to when the _Dunraven_ was sunk. Don’t you see? They were going to Naples. That’s in Italy. And this sailor man told Mr. Parlow, Miss Amanda, that he has been to Naples. So he must have been through that Mediterranean Ocean, or sea, or whatever it is—right where my papa and mamma were lost.” The sailor lay in the warm bedroom over the kitchen. In bed, with his head bound up as though it were in a huge nightcap, he looked oddly like a gnome, for he was banked up with pillows, and wore one of Mr. Parlow’s flannelette nightshirts, which was too small for him. In spite of his odd habiliments, his was a cheerful face—red, with few wrinkles, save about his eyes, and a scattering brush of grey bristles along his jaw, for he needed a shave. “Hello, my hearties!” was his rumbling greeting when Carolyn May and Miss Amanda appeared. “This is the little miss I’ve got to thank for savin’ me yesterday.” “And my dog, sir,” said Carolyn May. “He’s downstairs by the stove. Of course, I couldn’t have brought you here on my sled, if it hadn’t been for Princey.” “That’s a fine dog,” agreed the sailor. “I ain’t never seen a finer.” Carolyn May warmed to him more and more at this enthusiastic praise. She prattled on gaily and soon had her “sailor man” telling all about the sea and ships, and “they that go down therein.” “For, you see,” explained Carolyn May, “I’m dreadful cur’ous about the sea. My papa and mamma were lost at sea.” “You don’t say so, little miss!” exclaimed the old fellow. “Aye, aye, that’s too bad.” Miss Amanda had disappeared, busy about some household matter, and the little girl and the sailor were alone together. “Yes,” Carolyn May proceeded, “it is dreadful hard to _feel_ that it is so.” “Feel that what’s so, little miss?” asked the man in bed. “That my papa and mamma are really drownd-ed,” said the little girl with quivering lips. “Some of the folks on their boat were saved. The papers said so.” “Aye, aye!” exclaimed the sailor, his brows puckered into a frown. “Aye, aye, matey! that’s allus the way. Why, I was saved myself from a wreck. I was in the first officer’s boat, and we in that boat was saved. There was another boat—the purser’s, it was—was driftin’ about all night with us. We come one time near smashin’ into each other and wreckin’ both boats. There was a heavy swell on. “Yet,” pursued the sailor, “come daylight, and the fog splitting we never could find the purser’s boat. She had jest as good a chance as us after the steamship sank. But there it was! We got separated from her, and we was saved, whilst the purser’s boat wasn’t never heard on again.” “That was dreadful!” sighed the little girl.