collection, "I know you, dear; you are the young lad that gave me the
tanner. Well, child, got anything to sell?"

"Nothing at all," said I.

"Bad luck?"

"Yes," said I, "bad enough, and ill usage."

"Ah, I suppose they caught ye; well, child, never mind, better luck next
time; I am glad to see you."

"Thank you," said I, sitting down on the stone bench; "I thought you had
left the bridge--why have you changed your side?"

The old woman shook.

"What is the matter with you," said I, "are you ill?"

"No, child, no; only--"

"Only what? Any bad news of your son?"

"No, child, no; nothing about my son. Only low, child--every heart has
its bitters."

"That's true," said I; "well, I don't want to know your sorrows; come,
where's the book?"

The apple-woman shook more violently than before, bent herself down, and
drew her cloak more closely about her than before. "Book, child, what
book?"

"Why, blessed Mary, to be sure."

"Oh, that; I ha'n't got it, child--I have lost it, have left it at home."

"Lost it," said I; "left it at home--what do you mean? Come, let me have
it."

"I ha'n't got it, child."

"I believe you have got it under your cloak."

"Don't tell any one, dear; don't--don't," and the apple-woman burst into
tears.

"What's the matter with you?" said I, staring at her.

"You want to take my book from me?"

"Not I, I care nothing about it; keep it, if you like, only tell me
what's the matter?"

"Why, all about that book."

"The book?"

"Yes, they wanted to take it from me."

"Who did?"

"Why, some wicked boys. I'll tell you all about it. Eight or ten days
ago, I sat behind my stall, reading my book; all of a sudden I felt it
snatched from my hand; up I started, and see three rascals of boys
grinning at me; one of them held the book in his hand. 'What book is
this?' said he, grinning at it. 'What do you want with my book?' said I,
clutching at it over my stall, 'give me my book.' 'What do you want a
book for?' said he, holding it back; 'I have a good mind to fling it into
the Thames.' 'Give me my book,' I shrieked; and, snatching at it, I fell
over my stall, and all my fruit was scattered about. Off ran the
boys--off ran the rascal with my book. Oh dear, I thought I should have
died; up I got, however, and ran after them as well as I could; I thought
of my fruit, but I thought more of my book. I left my fruit and ran
after my book. 'My book! my book!' I shrieked, 'mu