SAT THE LITTLE DEFORMED MATTY."
_Page_ 96.]

Poor, poor Matty! Deformed, shrunken, and wizened, she was a painful
contrast to all the beauty and brightness surrounding her in the little
conservatory. Beyond the sympathy unavoidably drawn forth by her
helpless and crippled condition, there was absolutely nothing to
attract one toward her. She looked peevish and fretful, too, so far as
there was any expression in the dull, heavy face. Was it to be wondered
at? There had been but little of brightness in her young life; and as I
looked from her to my little sisters, our petted household darlings,
carefully guarded and shielded, so full of life and joyousness, so free
from all pain or care, my heart swelled with thankfulness, that to them
had been allotted no such fate, and with the desire to brighten the lot
of this little unfortunate.

It was not so with her brother Tony: he was the jolliest, most active
little cripple that ever hobbled round on one leg and a crutch. The
celerity of his movements was something surprising; his voice was merry
and cheery; and his ugly young face, despite the many hardships of his
lot, generally wore a smile.

Now and then he would be seen with his face pressed against the glass,
with a nod of good-fellowship to his sister or Johnny, or staring at
such customers as happened to be within; and, if these proved to be
Matty's patrons, he would watch the progress of the sale with great
interest. Then he would turn to his roaster, and work it violently for
a few moments, then be off to the curbstone or crossing, exchanging
some, probably not very choice, joke with some other street-gamin, or
the conductor or driver of a passing street-car.

The children, Allie and Daisy, made their investments while I was
taking these observations, and Bessie was purchasing cut-flowers from
the old German. She was a good German scholar, and delighted the heart
of the old man with the familiar language of the fatherland, which
flowed glibly from her tongue. The consequence was, that that politic
young woman left the florist's with three times the amount of flowers
that I had, although I had spent just twice as much money. But, then, I
could not speak German.

"I am going to take my flowers to cousin Serena," I said, after we had
left the florist's, and exchanged a word or two with jolly little Tony
as we passed. "Will you come and see her, Bessie?"

Bessie assented, and the two little ones were