r of twenty years, it wur.
It was when I lost my little gal."

"Where is 'oor 'ittle gal?" asked Dickie.

"Blessed if I know," said Andrew, shaking his head mournfully; "but
wherever she be, she ain't not to call a _little_ gal now, missie. She
wur jest five years old when I lost her, an' it's twenty years ago.
That'll make her a young woman of twenty-five, yer see, missie, by this
time."

"Why did 'oo lose 'oor 'ittle gal?" pursued Dickie, avoiding the
question of age.

"Because I wur a fool," replied Andrew frowning.

"Tell Dickie," repeated the child, to whom the "little gal" had now
become more interesting than the circus; "tell Dickie all about 'oor
'ittle gal."

"Well, missie," began Andrew with a sigh, "it wur like this. After her
mother died my little gal an' I lived alone. I wasn't a gardener then,
I was in the cobblin' line, an' sat all day mendin' an' patchin' the
folks' boots an' shoes. Mollie wur a lovin' little thing, an' oncommon
sensible in her ways. She'd sit at my feet an' make-believe to be
sewin' the bits of leather together, an' chatter away as merry as a
wren. Then when I took home a job, she'd come too an' trot by my side
holdin' me tight by one finger--a good little thing she was, an' all the
folks in the village was fond of her, but she always liked bein' with me
best--bless her 'art, that she did."

Andrew stopped suddenly, and drew out of his pocket a red cotton
handkerchief.

"Why did 'oo lose her?" repeated Dickie impatiently.

"It wur like this, missie," resumed Andrew. "One day there come a
circus to the village, like as it might be that out in the field yonder,
an' there was lots of 'orses, and dogs that danced, an' fine ladies
flyin' through hoops, an suchlike. Mollie, she wanted to go an' see
'em. Nothing would do but I must take her. I can see her now, standin'
among the scraps of leather, an' the tools, an' the old boots, an'
saying so pleadin', `Do'ee take Molly, daddie, to see the gee-gees.'
So, though I had a job to finish afore that night, I said I'd take her,
an' I left my work, an' put on her red boots--"

"Yed boots?" said Dickie inquiringly, looking down at her own stumpy
black goloshes.

"Someone had giv' me a scrap of red leather, an' I'd made her a pair of
boots out of it," said Andrew; "they didn't cost me nothin' but the
work--so I put 'em on, an tied on her little bonnet an' her handkercher,
an' we went off. Mollie was frighted at first to see t