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Updated: July 6, 2025
Coomber; "you ought to have been in bed an hour ago;" and she would have taken the picture away, but Tiny hastily snatched it up, and, carefully folding it, wrapped it in another piece of paper, and then begged that it might be put away in a drawer for fear it should be lost before the morning. Mrs. Coomber smiled as she took it from her hand.
They were not actually uneatable by those who were on the verge of starvation; but they were utterly unfit for a child like Tiny, in her present weak, delicate condition; and again the question of sending her to the poorhouse until the spring was mooted by Mrs. Coomber.
When Coomber brought the child that afternoon, he said, gaily: "Here's a present for yer from the sea, mother; maybe she'll bring us good luck coming as she did." "It 'ud be better luck if we'd picked up a boat," muttered Bob, who was standing near. "Why, she ain't such a baby as you said," exclaimed Mrs. Coomber, as she unpinned the shawl in which she was wrapped; "she is about five."
Coomber explained this to his friend in a rather roundabout fashion, for he had not found Peters on the shore, as he had expected, and where he could have stated his errand in a few words.
Once he saw her lips move, but no sound came from them; and after waiting a minute he dashed her from him with all the strength of his mad fury. There was a shriek from Mrs. Coomber, and screams from the boys, but poor little Tiny uttered no sound.
I went to the place, and they sent me here, and the minute I saw the child, I knew her for my Tilly's." The old man had talked on, but Coomber had comprehended very little of what was said. He stood looking half-dazed for a minute or two after the stranger had ceased speaking. At length he gathered his wits sufficiently to say: "Have you got them pictures now?"
"Oh, daddy, He will! He will!" she whispered, earnestly; "He loves you, and He's been waiting all this long time for you to love Him; and you will, won't you, now, you know?" But there was no time for Coomber to reply, for the people were taking their seats again, and Peters touched him on the shoulder, motioning him to do the same.
"Ye-es, it's too late to go back with the child," said Coomber, slowly and regretfully; though what he should do without his nightly dose of whisky he did not know. "Sing again," whispered Bob to Tiny; and the next minute the little voice rang out once more its "Star of Peace."
"But the boat, Coomber, it wasn't safe," pleaded the poor woman. "We might ha' been adrift any minute." "Didn't I tell yer she was safe, and didn't I ought to know when a boat's safe better nor you a poor tool of a woman? Come out of it," he added, impatiently, turning away.
For a little while they went on in silence, and nothing could be heard but the gentle lap, lap of the waves at the side of the boat, until Coomber said: "Come, sing to us again about that sailor's star. Bob, you try and pick it up as she sings," he added. So the verses were sung through again, and without a break this time; and Tiny was able to recall the last verse, too, and sang
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