and merriment made him feel sadder and sadder, and
lonelier and lonelier. He knocked and rang at door after door, but
nobody wanted a boy: nobody ever does want a boy when a boy is wanting a
place. He got tired of ringing door bells, and tried some of the shops.
No, they didn't want him. One said if he was bigger he might do; another
wanted to know if he could keep accounts; one thought that the man
around the corner wanted a boy, and when Fred got there he had just
engaged one. Weary, disappointed, and discouraged, he sat down by the
iron railing that fenced a showy house, and thought what he should do.
It was almost five in the afternoon: cold, dismal, leaden-gray was the
sky--the darkness already coming on. Fred sat listlessly watching the
great snow feathers, as they slowly sailed down from the sky. Now he
heard gay laughs, as groups of merry children passed; and then he
started, as he saw some woman in a black bonnet, and thought she looked
like his mother. But all passed, and nobody looked at him, nobody wanted
him, nobody noticed him.

Just then a patter of little feet was heard behind him on the
flagstones, and a soft, baby voice said, "How do 'oo do?" Fred turned in
amazement; and there stood a plump, rosy little creature of about two
years, with dimpled cheek, ruby lips, and long, fair hair curling about
her sweet face. She was dressed in a blue pelisse, trimmed with swan's
down, and her complexion was so exquisitely fair, her eyes so clear and
sweet, that Fred felt almost as if it were an angel. The little thing
toddled up to him, and holding up before him a new wax doll, all
splendid in silk and lace, seemed quite disposed to make his
acquaintance. Fred thought of his lost sister, and his eyes filled up
with tears. The little one put up one dimpled hand to wipe them away,
while with the other holding up before him the wax doll, she said,
coaxingly, "No no ky."

Just then the house door opened, and a lady, richly dressed, darted out,
exclaiming, "Why, Mary, you little rogue, how came you out here?" Then
stopping short, and looking narrowly on Fred, she said, somewhat
sharply, "Whose boy are you? and how came you here?"

"I'm nobody's boy," said Fred, getting up, with a bitter choking in his
throat; "my mother's dead; I only sat down here to rest me for a while."

"Well, run away from here," said the lady; but the little girl pressed
before her mother, and jabbering very earnestly in unimaginable English,