The man turned.
"Nancy pet--" it was her uncle's name for her and it was her uncle's
voice that spoke. "Those people are good to you? They will take care of
you till--while you are alone?"
"Uncle Carey, Uncle Carey! It _is_ you!"
"Yes, it is I. Don't come nearer, dear. Stand by the railing with
your doll. Don't speak till those people pass. Now listen, little
Anne. I am hiding from men who want to put me in prison. I can't
tell you about it. Some day you will know. Oh, Lord! some day you must
know all. Think of Uncle Carey sometimes, dear, and keep on loving him.
Remember how we used to sit in the sleepy-hollow chair and tell fairy
tales. My Nancy pet! Poor little orphan baby! It is hard to leave you
alone--dependent--among strangers. Here! This little package is for you.
Lucky I forgot and left it in my pocket after I took it out of the
safety deposit box. Everything else is gone. What will you do with it?
No, no! you can't carry it in your hand. Here!" He tore a strip from his
handkerchief, knotted it around the little package, and tied it under
her doll's skirts. "Be careful of it, dear. They're not of great value,
but they were your mother's.
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