She did not want to go home and tell her mother what had happened, and
show her Miss Patten's note, for she knew that her mother would be
troubled and unhappy.
Suddenly she decided to go to her father's warehouse and tell him, and
go home with him at noon. She was sure her father would think she had
done right.
She turned and walked quickly down King Street, and in a short time she
was near the wharves and could see the long building where her father
stored the cotton he purchased from the planters. The wharves were piled
high with boxes and bales, and there were small boats coming in to the
wharves, and others making ready to depart.
Sylvia could see her father's boat close to the wharf near the
warehouse. "I wish I could take that boat and carry Estralla off to Fort
Sumter," she thought.
A good-natured negro led her to Mr. Fulton's office, and before her
father could say a word Sylvia was in the midst of her story. She told
of the blue cockades that the other girls wore, of the palmetto flag,
and of her failure to salute it, and handed him Miss Patten's note.
Mr. Fulton looked serious and troubled as he listened to his little
girl's story. Then he lifted her to his knee, took off her pretty hat,
and said:
"Too bad, dear child! But you did right. A little Yankee girl must be
loyal to the Stars and Stripes. I am glad you came and told me."
For a moment it seemed to Sylvia that her father had forgotten all about
her. He was looking straight out of the window.
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