Toby meant
nothing by this but to please and cheer his little mistress. He saw
she was down and tired, and he was determined to put a bold face on
things, and to get a bit of sunshine, even on this December
afternoon, into his own honest eyes, if it would come nowhere else.
Generally Cecile was the brightest of the party; now Toby was
determined to show her that he was a dog worth having in adversity.
She did think so. Tears sprang to her own blue eyes. She threw her
arms round Toby's neck and gave him a great hug. In the midst of this
caress the dog's whole demeanor changed; he gave a quick spring out
of Cecile's embrace, and uttered an angry growl. A girl was
approaching by stealthy steps at the back of the little party.
The moment she heard Toby's bark she changed her walk to a quick run
and threw herself down beside Cecile with an easy hail-fellow-well-met
manner.
"Well, you're a queer un, you ere," she said, looking up pertly in
Cecile's face, "a-hugging of that big dawg, and a-sitting on the
church steps of St. Stephen's on the werry bitterest evening that has
come this year yet. Ha'n't you no home, now, as you sits yere?"
"No; but I am going to look out for a night's lodging at once,"
answered Cecile.
"For you and that ere little un, and the dawg?"
"Yes, we must all three be together whatever happens. Do you know of
a lodging, little girl?"
"My name's Jessie--Jessie White. Yes, I knows where I goes myself.
'Tis werry warm there.
Pages:
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112