“Yes, little miss. And the poor passengers! Purser had twenty or more in his boat. Women mostly. But there was a sick man, too. Why, I helped lower his wife and him into the boat ’fore I was called to go with the first officer in his boat. We was the last to cast off. The purser had jest as good a chance as we did. “I guess I won’t never forgit that time, little miss,” went on the seaman, seeing the blue eyes fixed on his face, round with interest. “No! And I’ve seen some tough times, too. “The ship was riddled. She had to sink—and it was night. We burned Coston lights, and our signal gun banged away for help, and the old siren tooted. The wireless top-hamper had been shot away in the fust place. “We didn’t have no chance at all to save the ship. Some of the boats was smashed. Two was overturned jest as they struck the water. There wasn’t any of the life rafts launched at all. But we didn’t have much of a panic; the steerage passengers was jest like dumb cattle. “They was goin’ back to Italy because of the war—the men to fight, the women and children so’s to benefit by the Government pay to soldiers’ families.” This was mostly beyond Carolyn May’s comprehension, but she listened to the sailor with serious attention. The seaman told his story as though it really were unforgettable. “There was the sick man I told you about, little miss. He was a wonder, that feller! Cheerful—brave—Don’t often see a feller like him. Jokin’ to the last, he was. He didn’t want to go in the purser’s boat, if there was more women or children to go. “We told him all the women folk had left the ship. So, then, he let me lower him down into the purser’s boat after his wife. And that boat had as good a chance as we had, I tell you,” repeated the seaman in quite an excited manner. “Oh, dear me!” exclaimed Carolyn May. “My papa and mamma might have been just like that,” she added. “Of course, we don’t know whether they got off the steamship at all.” “Aye, aye!” the sailor said. “Pretty tough on you, little miss.” Miss Amanda had come back into the room, and she stood listening to the old man’s talk. She said: “Carolyn May, I think you had better go downstairs now. We mustn’t let our patient talk too much. It won’t be good for him.” So Carolyn May shook hands with the old sailor and started downstairs ahead of Miss Amanda. The latter lingered a moment to ask a question. “What was the name of the steamship you were wrecked on?” she asked. “The one you were just telling about.” “She was the _Dunraven_—the _Dunraven_, of the Cross and Crescent Line,” replied the mariner. “Didn’t I tell you that before, ma’am?” CHAPTER XVII—WILL WONDERS NEVER CEASE? Again it snowed all night. “My goodness me!” sighed Carolyn May the next morning when she arose, to find all the paths filled up again. “Don’t it _ever_ stop snowing till springtime comes around again, Aunty Rose?” “Oh, yes,” answered the housekeeper, smiling quietly. “But I thought you loved the snow?”