"I'll be your daddee," said Picardino. "Ach, we'll soon be merree again." He prattled of the delights of the road, trying to comfort me, but I felt miserably desolate, and lay down and sobbed. He left me after a while, and presently returned with some hot soup. At first I waved it away, but the savoury smell was too much for me, and I was soon greedily devouring the appetizing stuff. And then I think I must have cried myself to sleep. It was dark when I awoke, and I was strangely alert. I didn't know where I was, but in a room below there was an indistinct murmur of voices. But what caught my ear was a low, clear whistling from the darkness outside, and I sprang to the window and strained my eyes into the night; for the tune was my old favorite: "Dance to your daddy, My little laddy; Dance to your daddy, My little man." There was a pause, and I took up the melody: "You shall have a fish, You shall have a fin; You shall have a haddock, When the ship comes in." I paused in my turn, and closer on the air came the ending of the tune: "You shall have a feather, You shall have a fan. Dance to your daddy, My little man." My heart was thumping wildly, and forgetting all my training in caution I rushed out of the room, clothed as I was in my shirt only, and down the stairs, and broke into a lighted room full of people, crying, "Daddy, dad-_dee_!" I made for the door, but Picardino caught me by the arm. "How? What?" he said sharply. Then my caution returned to me. I looked foolishly round and rubbed my eyes as though I had been dreaming, and beginning to whimper I said, "I want my daddy." Picardino was at once all mother to me, and was leading me from the room when the street door opened and a man entered. I just glanced at him, but he wasn't my father; so I crept out of the room and up the stairs. But I wasn't half-way up before I heard a terrible scream, and the sounds of a scuffle. I stopped to listen, but the whistling was still in my ears, and that claimed my first attention. I ran up to my room and tugged on my clothes--Picardino must have undressed me--and then peering out of the window I gave a low whistle. There was a faint answer; and I looked down the wall to see if I could escape, my heart beating with I know not what wild expectation. I could see the ground beneath me, not a very deep drop, and the earth was soft, being dug up into a flower-bed under the window. I was soon hanging to the sill; and swinging myself away from the wall was on the ground on all fours. I sprang up and looked about me. Again I whistled, and the answer came, but not from where I expected it. I turned and crept forward, and heard a low whisper, "Heest! Heer, heer." But it was the voice of Picardino, and his hand just touched me.