de up his mind to accost them, but he was
reserved by nature and it cost him an effort to take the initiative. In
his case silence was always golden; in his own cynical language, he
refused to tout for a cheap popularity by saying pleasant things to
strangers.

They were not an attractive pair. The cobbler was a thin meagre little
man, with a round back, bow-legs, a sharp pinched face, and pale blue
eyes that seemed to look dejectedly at life.

The child was the image of her father, only in her case the defects
were more accentuated: her face was still more pinched, and absolutely
colourless, and the large blue-gray eyes were out of proportion to the
other features. A fringe of red hair, curled very stiffly, and set
round the small face like a large frill, gave her a curiously weird
look. Some woman's hand must have curled it and tied the wide limp bows
of her sunbonnet under the sharp little chin.

Neither of them seemed to notice Malcolm Herrick's scrutiny, they were
so absorbed by the pigeons; but the scanty supply of corn had soon been
scattered, and the guests were flying off by twos and threes.

"Oh see, dad!" exclaimed the child in her shrill little voice. "Oh, my!
ain't it heavenly to cut capers like that in the air; it is like the
merry-go-rounds at the fair," and then Kit clapped her hands as another
pretty creature rose softly and fluttered away in the distance.

The air had been growing more sultry and oppressive every moment; a
heavy storm was evidently gathering--already a few heat-drops had
fallen. Malcolm was a man who noticed details; he perceived at once
that the ragged cover of the perambulator offered a flimsy and
insufficient protection. Then he glanced at the umbrella in his hand;
it was a dandified article, with a handsomely carved handle.

The two voices that usually wrangled within his breast for the mastery
made themselves heard.

"It is perfectly impossible for you to offer the umbrella that Anna
gave you to that brat," murmured common-sense; "very likely her father
would pawn it for gin."

"But the child looks ill," remonstrated impulse. "Anna would be sure to
think of the poor mite first." But it was doubtful which voice would
have prevailed but for a chance word.

"Oh, dad, there is a big drop--it quite splashed my face. Ma'am said
the rain would drown us." Then the man, whose wits had been
wool-gathering, looked up in alarm, and began fumbling with Kit's shawl.

"Dear sakes," h