Grace listened with wondering eyes.
"Oh, that's just like Uncle Robert," she declared. "But I think you were
brave to ask him."
CHAPTER XV
"WHERE IS SYLVIA?"
The Butterfly was all ready and waiting for its passengers when Grace
and Sylvia, followed by the smiling and delighted Estralla, who was
carrying Sylvia's cape and trying to act as much like a "rale grown-up
lady's maid" as possible, came down to the long wharf.
Although it was December, there was little to remind anyone of winter.
The air was soft and clear, the sun shone brightly, and only a little
westerly breeze ruffled the blue waters of the harbor.
Negroes were at work on the wharf loading bales of cotton on a big ship.
They were singing as they worked, and Sylvia resolved to remember the
words of the song:
"De big bee flies high,
De little bee makes de honey,
De black man raise de cotton,
An' de white man gets de money."
She repeated it over and then Grace sang it, with an amused laugh at her
friend's interest in "nigger songs."
Mr. Fulton came to meet them and helped them on board the boat. As the
Butterfly made its way out into the channel the little girls looked back
at the long water-front, where lay many vessels from far-off ports. In
the distance they could see the spire of St. Philip's, one of the
historic churches of Charleston, and everywhere fluttered the palmetto
flag.
Sylvia sat in the stern beside her father, and very soon the tiller was
in her hand and she was shaping the boat's course toward the forts.
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