Sylvia was glad that she had eaten only one of the cookies.  She carried the remainder to her room and then went to the kitchen.

“Will you make me a fine big cake, Aunt Connie?” she asked.

“Lan’, course I will, chile!  But, w’at you wan’ it fer?” answered Aunt Connie, smiling down at the little girl whom she loved so dearly.

“It’s a secret, Aunt Connie!  I want to give it away, and I don’t want to tell even my mother until—­well,” and Sylvia hesitated a moment, and then continued, “until next week.  Then I will tell her, and you too.”

“Dat’s right, Missy.  I’ll make yo’ de finest cake I knows how.  Le’s see!  I’ll put citron, an’ raisins, an’ currants in it.  An’ butter!  Yas, thar’ll be a fine lot o’ things in dat cake!” and Aunt Connie rolled her eyes, and lifted her hands as if she could already taste its richness.

All that afternoon Sylvia could think of nothing but the proposed trip.  She sat with Mrs. Carleton a little while before supper, and told her of what Uncle Peter had said:  that ships from the north were on the way to the aid of Fort Sumter.

“Oh!  I do wish I could send the news to Sumter.  It would give them all courage,” said Mrs. Carleton.

Sylvia was for a moment tempted to tell her friend that she would carry the message, but she kept silent, thinking to herself that here was another reason for her to carry out her plan.

“If you could send a message to Captain Carleton what would you say?” questioned Sylvia, and Mrs. Carleton smiled at Sylvia’s serious voice.

“Why, if I could only let him know that I was safe and well and going to Boston with you, in case Sumter really is attacked; I know that is what he wants to hear.”

Mrs. Carleton’s smile vanished.  Sylvia realized that this kind friend was troubled, and wished with all her heart that she could say:  “To-morrow I will tell you all about Captain Carleton.”  But she knew that she must keep silent until she had carried out her plan.

Sylvia was the first one at the breakfast table the next morning, and was delighted when her mother said that she and Mrs. Carleton were invited to luncheon at the house of a friend.

“Aunt Connie and Estralla will take good care of you,” Mrs. Fulton added, and Sylvia felt her face flush.  But she made no reply, and soon hurried to the cabin where Estralla was waiting for her.

It was still early in the forenoon when two little negro girls, one carrying a large package wrapped in a newspaper, appeared at the wharf where the Butterfly was moored.  Uncle Peter was not to be seen.  But he had just left the boat, whose sail had not even been lowered, and the two girls hurried on board.  In a moment Sylvia had unfastened the rope, pushed the boat clear of the landing, and rudder in hand was steering the boat out toward the channel.

Two or three men in uniform watched the little “darkies,” as they supposed both the girls to be, with amusement.  Negro children were always playing about, and no attention was paid to them.