Page:Aunt Jo's Scrap-Bag, Volume 5.djvu/155

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"Hold on to that, my dear."

"Ah," thought I, "how little we can judge from appearances! This grim old soul is a gentleman, after all."

Turning her face towards us, the girl held on to the stout cane, and swayed easily to and fro as we bumped over the rails. The Irishwoman's baby, a sickly little thing, was attracted by the flowers, and put out a small hand to touch them, with a wistful look at the bright face above.

"Will baby have some?" said my girl, and made the little creature happy with some gay red leaves.

"Bless your heart, honey, it's fond he is of the like o' them, and seldom he gets any," said the mother, gratefully, as she settled baby's dirty hood, and wrapped the old shawl round his feet.

Baby stared hard at the giver of posies, but his honest blue eyes gave no offence, and soon the two were so friendly that baby boldly clutched at the bright buttons on her sack, and crowed with delight when he got one, while we all smiled at the