uding with grief and her dainty under lip
beginning to quiver piteously. A world of reproach seemed to dwell in
her pleading, "Bonny come!" and Glory's own cheerfulness instantly
returned. Lifting the child again, she poised her on her own shoulder
and started valiantly forward across the ferry-slip and past the various
stands of the small merchants which lined the waiting-room walls. Thus
elevated, Bonny Angel was just upon a level with one tempting display of
cakes and candies, and the sight of them reminded her that it was time
to eat. She took her arm from Glory's neck, to which she had clung, made
an unexpected dash for a heap of red confections, lost her balance, and
fell head long in the midst.

CHAPTER IX

In the Ferry-House

Then up rose the old woman behind the stand, ready with tongue and fist
to punish this destroyer of her stock; for the truth was that Miss Bonny
was not an "Angel" at all, but what Nancy Smith had so common-sensibly
judged her to be--a lost child. Such a plump and substantial child, as
well, that her downfall crushed to a crimson flood the red "drops" she
would have seized and utterly demolished another pile of perishable
cakes.

"Save us and help us! You clumsy girl! What you mean, hurlin' that young
one onto my stand, that way? Well, you've spoiled a power of stuff an' I
only hope you can pay for it on the spot!"

With that, the irate vendor snatched Bonny from the stand and dropped
her upon the floor beyond it; where, terrified both by her fall and this
rough treatment, she set up such a wail that further scolding was
prevented. More than that, instead of being properly abashed by her own
carelessness, Glory was far more concerned that Bonny's beautiful coat
was stained and ruined and its owner's heart so grieved. Down she
dropped beside her "Guardian," showering kisses upon her, and comforting
her so tenderly that the baby forgot her fear and began to lick the
sticky fluid, which had filled the "drops," from her sleeve that it had
smeared.

This restored quiet so that the vender could demand payment for the
damage she had swiftly estimated, and she thrust her hand toward the
pair on the floor, saying, "Hand me over a dollar, and be quick about
it! Ought to be more, seein's it'll take me half a day to straighten up
and----"

"A dollar! Why--why, I never had so much in my hull life! an' not a
single cent now. Yes--they's a quarter to home, 't I forgot an' left in
the bag