Kitabı oku: «Bessie in the City», sayfa 5

VIII.
THE NEW GLOVES

"Maggie and Bessie," said mamma one morning, "I want to see your gloves. It is a month to-day since you began to save money for your library."

The gloves were soon brought, and mamma examined them.

"Maggie, your second-best are too shabby to be worn any more," said her mother, "you must take the better ones for every day, and I shall buy you a new pair."

"Oh, mamma, I would rather keep the old pair, and save the money," said Maggie.

"No, dear; you know I told you I must keep you as neat and well dressed as usual. You must have what is necessary, and then what is left of the dollar goes in your box."

"And how much will it take for new gloves, mamma?"

"About seventy-five cents. Then you have had two boot-laces; they are ten cents; that leaves fifteen cents out of the dollar. Bessie's gloves will do, I think, and she has had one boot-lace; that leaves the whole of her dollar except five cents. Maggie, you must have taken great pains to use fewer laces. This is a great improvement on last month."

But in spite of her mother's praise, Maggie's face looked very long. Bessie had almost the whole of her dollar, and but a few cents were left of her own.

"Mamma," said Bessie, "I think Maggie could not help it, if her second gloves are pretty mussed. The other day Flossy yan away with them, and before we could get them he had chewed one all up. And it was not Maggie's carelessness, 'cause Jane put them on the bed, and Flossy jumped up and pulled them off. Couldn't you take a little of my dollar to help to buy the new gloves, and let Maggie keep some more of hers?"

"That will not do," said mamma, smiling at the generous little girl; "but since it was Flossy's fault that the gloves were spoiled, and Maggie has taken so much pains, I will only take out fifty cents for the new pair. And I will tell you, Bessie, it is much harder for Maggie to keep her things neat than it is for you, and then she generally puts on her own shoes, while nurse or Jane puts on yours. Suppose next month I add another twenty-five cents to her dollar; are you willing?"

"Course I am, mamma. I am just as glad as anything. Isn't that nice, Maggie?"

Maggie's face brightened. "And how much have we now, mamma?" she asked.

"Forty cents out of Maggie's dollar, and ninety-five from Bessie's just make one dollar, thirty-five cents. You have one dollar and twelve cents in your box, which make in all two dollars, forty-seven cents."

Maggie was quite happy when she found they had such a sum, which mamma told them was nearly half of what they wanted for the library.

Grandmamma's carriage now drove to the door, and she came in and asked Mrs. Bradford to go out with her and take the children. Mamma said she could not go herself, for baby was not well, and she did not care to leave her, but the children might go if grandmamma wished. Away they ran to be dressed, full of glee, for shopping with grandmamma was a great pleasure, and they were almost sure to come home richer than they went. They drove to several places, and when the children thought there was anything interesting to be seen, they went into the store with their grandmother. If not, they remained in the carriage, and chatted with the coachman, or watched the people passing in the street.

At last they went to a large store, where Mrs. Stanton and Mrs. Bradford were in the habit of going, and where Maggie and Bessie felt quite at home. There was a good-natured clerk, who was nurse's nephew, and whenever he saw them, he was sure to have an empty box with a picture cover, or a bright-colored piece of paper or ribbon to give them. Here grandmamma bought several things which did not much interest the little girls; but at last she took them to another counter, where she said something to the clerk about gloves.

"Why, grandmamma," said Maggie, "are you going to buy gloves? Do you know you have a whole box full at home? I saw them the other day when you let me put your drawer in order."

But Mrs. Stanton only smiled, and pinched Maggie's round cheek, and just then the gloves were put before them. Oh! such gloves as those were never meant for grandmamma's hand. Kid gloves they were too, and who had ever seen any so small before? In her surprise and pleasure, Maggie had almost forgotten that she had been forbidden to handle anything when she went shopping; but just as her hand touched the gloves, she remembered, and drew it back. But the good-natured clerk gave them to her, telling her to look at them if she pleased.

"Just like ladies' gloves," said Bessie, who, stretching up on tiptoe, could just see above the counter. Grandmamma lifted her and seated her upon it.

"Do you call that a hand?" said she, playfully, taking Bessie's little fingers in her own. "Mr. Jones, have you a pair small enough for that?"

How Bessie wished her hand was larger as the clerk shook his head! But after looking through the whole bundle, a pair was found which grandmamma thought would do, and then a pair for Maggie was picked out with less trouble. They were wrapped in separate parcels, and each child took her own, feeling quite as if she must have grown taller since she came to that counter. Then the clerk gave them each a piece of fancy paper, – Maggie's, gilt, with flowers stamped upon it, Bessie's, blue, with silver stars.

As soon as they reached home, they ran to show mamma their treasures, but Mrs. Bradford noticed that Maggie did not seem half so eager as usual, when she had received any new pleasure. While Bessie was talking as fast as her little tongue could go, she stood almost silent at her mother's knee, drawing her fingers slowly back and forth over her gilt paper.

"What makes our Maggie so quiet?" Mrs. Bradford asked. "Are you not pleased with your grandmother's pretty present, dear?"

"Oh, yes, mamma! but I was just considering about it a little."

"What were you considering?"

"If it was quite fair for me to wear the gloves, mamma. Do you think it is?"

"Why should it not be fair, Maggie? Grandmamma gave you the gloves for your own; did she not?"

"Oh, yes, ma'am; but then she did not know you gave me glove allowance; and maybe she would not have bought them for me if she had known. And now you wont have to get me another pair this month. So maybe you wont think I ought to have the gloves and the money too. I want to be quite very fair, indeed, I do, mamma, and I didn't know how to think it was quite right. Besides, those gloves are nicer than the kind you buy for us, and perhaps you would think you ought to take a little more of my dollar for them. If you would, I would rather have a pair of the other kind, and put these away, and let the money go in the library-box."

"You may wear the gloves and welcome, my dear, honest little girl," said Mrs. Bradford, drawing Maggie to her, and kissing her. "It is quite fair for you to do so. Grandmamma knew that I gave you a certain sum for your gloves and so forth, and I think she meant to help you a little by buying these for you. I am glad my darling child wishes to be honest and upright in all she does. But I must be quite fair too. I told you I should give you so much a month, and take from it what you needed for gloves and shoe-laces, and whatever was left you might keep for another purpose. Now since grandmamma has given you these, there is no need for me to buy you another pair; but it would not be just for me to take from you any part of the money they would have cost. It is your gain, not mine. When a bargain has been made, we must hold to it, even though things turn out differently from what was expected."

"But you need not hold to this bargain, if you do not wish to, mamma."

"Indeed, I do wish to, Maggie, and you need not feel in the least troubled about it. I am not only satisfied, but very glad that you have received this little help."

After this, Maggie's mind was at rest, and she wore her new gloves with great pleasure.

"Hallo!" said Fred, as he and Harry came into the library that afternoon, and found their little sisters quietly playing in one corner. "What scrumptious paper! Where did you get that, Midget?"

"Mr. Jones, nurse's nephew, gave it to us," said Maggie. "He gave me the gold piece, and Bessie the silver piece, but we cut them in two and each took half."

"I wish I could get hold of such friends as you do," said Fred. "Somebody is always giving you something. How do you manage it?"

"We don't manage it," said Bessie, who thought that Fred meant to say that she and Maggie liked their friends for what they gave them. "We don't manage it, and we don't get hold of them, Fred. Our friends give us things because they like to do it, and we never ask for anything; do we, Maggie?"

"No," said Maggie, "and you ought not to talk so, Fred."

"I didn't mean to say anything," said he, "but it is true; is it not? Are not people always making you presents, and taking you to places, and doing other things to give you pleasure?"

"Yes," said Maggie, "but they do it because they like us. If anybody loves anybody, it is a pleasure to do a favor to them. We think it is; don't we, Bessie?"

"Oh, that is it; is it?" said Fred. "Well then, you love me; don't you?"

"Course we do, because you're our brother; and we'd love you a great deal more if you didn't tease us, Fred."

"Well, if you love me, and it is such a pleasure to do things for people you love, you can please yourselves very much by giving me some of this paper."

"Oh, we can't; we want it ourselves," said Maggie, while Bessie took up both pieces of paper, and put her hands behind her, as if she feared that Fred would run off with them.

"Ho, ho," said he, "then you love yourselves better than you do me?"

"Fred," said Mr. Bradford, who was sitting on the other side of the room, "do not tease your sisters."

"I did not mean to tease them, sir; but as Maggie thinks it so delightful to please people whom one loves, I was only giving her a chance to do it, and she don't seem to care to take it. I say, Hal, wouldn't this paper be jolly to make stars and things for our new kites?"

"First-rate," said Harry. "I'll tell you what, Midget and Bess, will you sell it?"

"No," said Bessie, rather crossly, "we want it for dresses for our paper dolls. You do tease us, and we want you to go away, even if you say you don't mean to, and you sha'n't – " Bessie stopped, and then went on again in a pleasanter voice. "Please to 'scuse me, Fred. I didn't mean to be so cross, but we are so busy, and we'd yather you wouldn't interyupt us."

These last words were said in a very polite little manner, which rather amused the boys. Fred had been ready with a sharp answer, when Bessie began so angrily; but now, when he saw her check her quick temper, he was ashamed to provoke her.

"Just as you choose," he said, "but you are in such a way in these days to lay up money for your mission-books that I thought you would be willing enough to sell it."

"Children," said Mr. Bradford, again looking up from his writing, "if you cannot play without disputing, I shall separate you. Fred, your little sisters were quiet and happy before you came in. Do not let me have to speak to you again, my boy."

Now here was the consequence of having a bad character. Fred had not intended to vex the children, but he was so in the habit of teasing them that they were afraid of him, and thought he meant it when he did not; while his father, who had not heard much of what was passing, but who had been disturbed by the fretful tone of Bessie's voice, took it for granted that Fred was annoying her. But Bessie was too honest to let him be blamed when he had not deserved it.

"Fred was not naughty, papa," she said. "I'm 'fraid it was me. I was cross."

"Very well," said her father, who thought it best to let them settle the difficulty themselves, if they could do it peaceably; "only let there be no more quarrelling."

"Suppose we go and finish our kites," said Harry. Fred agreed, and the two boys went away.

"Bessie," said Maggie, presently, "I'm just of a good mind to give Harry a piece of my paper."

"For some pennies?" asked Bessie.

"No; mamma said it was not nice for brothers and sisters to sell things to one another; and she don't want us to be too anxious to get money, even for our library. I'm just going to give it to him, 'cause that day when he asked me for the shell, I said I would sell it to him; and then he'll see I am not a miser."

"Well," said Bessie, "then I'll give Fred a piece of mine, 'cause I was cross to him just now."

"Harry shall have my gold piece," said Maggie, "and then we'll divide these two 'tween ourselves."

"So we will," said Bessie, "then we will all have some. Maggie, you do fix everything so nice."

Away they ran to their brothers' playroom.

"Holloa!" said Fred, when he saw them; "we are not such plagues but that you had to run after us, eh?"

"We came to bring you some of our paper," said Maggie. "This piece is for you, Harry, and Bessie's is for Fred."

"Well, you are first-rate little chaps," said Fred; "and Hal and I will make each of you a nice little kite; see if we don't."

"Oh, Fred!" said Bessie.

"What's the matter now? Sha'n't you like that?"

"Ladies are not chaps," said Bessie, gravely, "and they don't play with kites."

"Oh, you're a big lady, aren't you?" said he, laughing.

"I can be a lady if I'm not so very big. Mamma says anybody can be a lady or a gemperlum, if they are kind and polite, even if they are very little, or even if they are poor."

"All right," said Fred. "Then I suppose that lady wont accept a kite from this gemperlum."

"Don't say it that way; you must say gem-per-lum."

"Well, don't I say gem-per-lum?"

"That's not the way," said Bessie, her color rising, for she knew that Fred was laughing at her, and she thought it was hard.

"Fred," said Harry, "you are breaking your resolution already."

"That is so. What a fellow I am!"

"Fred," said Bessie, "gemperlums don't tease. Papa is a gemperlum, and he never teases."

"And mamma said Tom Norris was a perfect little gentleman, and he does not tease. I guess gentlemen always 'do to others as they would,'" said Maggie, who was very fond of this line.

"They ought to if they do not," said Harry, "and no one can say that you don't keep that rule, Maggie."

"When people have angry passions, it's very hard not to get in one when they're teased," said Bessie. "Fred, I do have to try so very, very hard."

Fred threw down his kite, and caught his little sister in his arms.

"See if I plague you any more then," he said. "I was just telling Harry I did not mean to do it, and the first thing, I am at it again; but I will try to remember, Bess. Harry, if I forget again, I give you leave to bring me up short the best way you can."

Fred kept his word, and after this, took much pains to break himself of his provoking habit.

IX.
TWO LOST PETS

THAT night Maggie had a very bad earache. She tried to be patient, but the pain was so severe that she could not help crying, and could get no rest. Her father and mother were up with her almost all night, trying to give her ease; but nothing did her any good until towards morning, when she fell into a troubled sleep.

"Margaret," said Mr. Bradford at the breakfast-table, "is that committee coming here this morning?"

"Yes," answered Mrs. Bradford.

"Mamma," said Bessie, "may I see it?"

"See what, – the committee?"

"Yes'm."

Mrs. Bradford smiled. "I do not think you would care much about it, Bessie, and the committee will be too busy with its own affairs to care to see you."

"Why, is it alive?" asked Bessie, in great surprise.

"To be sure," said Fred, before his mother could answer; "did you never see one?"

"No," said Bessie, "could it bite me or scratch me?"

"It could if it had a mind to," said Fred, "and – " He was stopped by Harry's hand over his mouth. Fred drew back his head, and looked angry.

"You gave me leave," said Harry.

"So I did," said Fred. "I beg your pardon, Bess, for plaguing you once more. The committee wont hurt you; it's nothing but a lot of ladies."

"You should beg your mother's pardon, also, for answering a question addressed to her," said Mr. Bradford; "it is a rude thing to do. Come to me, Bessie." He took her upon his knee, saying, "A committee is a number of people who are appointed to attend to some particular thing. You know that the ladies in our church are going to make up some clothing to send to the children at the Five Points' Mission; do you not?"

"Yes, papa."

"Well, several of these ladies have been asked to make all the arrangements for the meetings, and to have everything in order, so that there may be no confusion when they come together to sew; and they are called a committee. Your mamma is one of the committee, and the ladies are to come here this morning. Do you understand?"

"Yes, papa."

It was quite late when Maggie awoke, long past breakfast-time, and after she was dressed, she found her breakfast arranged for her in the doll's tea-set, and Bessie ready to wait upon her. But our poor little Maggie could not enjoy even this very much; she was languid and quite tired out with pain, and her troublesome ear would not let itself be forgotten, so that she did not feel much like play. Mamma took her on her lap, rocked her, and read a new story-book, which suited much better.

"I am sorry that I shall have to leave you for a while, dear," she said. "If I had known that I was to have a little sick girl this morning, I would not have asked the ladies to come here; but as it is, I must go down. I do not think I shall be away more than an hour, and you will be patient; will you not? Nurse will take care of you."

"And I will yead to her," said Bessie.

So when the ladies came, and mamma had to go down-stairs, she laid Maggie on the lounge and covered her up, while Bessie sat down close beside her with "Very Little Tales," and "Susie's Six Birthdays." Jane had taken Franky to the park, and nurse, seeing Maggie so quiet and comfortable, thought that she might leave her awhile.

"Baby's a bit fretful," she said, "and it's a shame to keep her in the house this pleasant day. I'll just take her on the sidewalk for a little fresh air. I'll not go out of sight, just up and down here a piece, and if Maggie wants anything, you can come down and call me, Bessie. I know you are to be trusted not to get in mischief."

Bessie was rather proud of being left to take care of Maggie, and willingly agreed to let nurse go. The house seemed very still after she had taken baby away. Bessie heard nothing but the sound of her own sweet little voice as she read "Susie," and presently, looking up, she saw that Maggie was fast asleep.

Flossy lay on the foot of the lounge, rolled up into a round ball, but with his bright eyes wide open, watching Bessie. He had been frisking about Maggie all the morning, trying to coax her to a game of play, but he found it was of no use. He did not understand why his merry playmate should be so quiet, nor did he approve of it. But he could not help it, and so, like a wise dog, he seemed to have made up his mind to bear it, though he lay watching and listening for the least sign of better times.

Bessie laid down her book, and sat looking at Maggie. "My poor Maggie," she said to herself, "she's so good and patient. I wish I could do something for her, and I wish Aunt Annie or somebody would come and see us and tell her a story while mamma is down-stairs. Oh, I wish Colonel Yush would come; he tells us better stories than any one. Wouldn't it be nice if he was to come while Maggie is asleep? and then she'd see him when she wakes up, and she'd be so glad. If he knew she was sick, I'm sure he would come. I'll just go out on the sidewalk and ask nursey if she wont take me over to the hotel door, and then I'll go up to my soldier's room and ask him to come and see Maggie."

She rose up softly from her chair and went into the nursery, followed by Flossy, who, being very wide awake himself, had no mind to be left with the sleeping Maggie, and jumped down from the lounge to run after Bessie as soon as she stirred. Bessie went to the closet and took down her garden-hat and sack from the peg where they hung. The hat was very shabby, for it had been worn all summer at the sea-shore, and had seen some hard use in the garden since she came home. But she could not reach her best one, and said to herself that this would do, if nurse would only let her wear it, of which she was not at all sure. She put it on, walked down-stairs, and out upon the front stoop; but she saw no sign of nurse. Up and down the street she looked, but the old woman was nowhere to be seen.

Now the truth was, that nurse had not intended to lose sight of the front-door, but as she passed Mr. Hall's house, Miss Carrie was at the basement window, and calling her, begged that she would bring the baby and let her speak to her. Nurse, always proud to show off her pet, was willing enough, and for a few moments quite forgot her other nurslings, as well as the open front-door; and it was just during these few moments that Bessie came out to look for her.

"Nurse said she wouldn't go far away," said Bessie to herself, "and she has, and now I can't go and find the colonel, 'cause mamma wouldn't like me to go alone."

Flossy had run down to the foot of the steps, and there he stood, wagging his tail, whisking and frisking, and altogether behaving like a puppy who had quite taken leave of his senses, so glad was he to be out of doors.

"We can't go, Flossy," said Bessie, as, with a sigh, she turned to go into the house. "We're very disappointed, but we must mind mamma. Come, Flossy, come. Don't you leave me, Flossy."

But Flossy was not so obedient as his little mistress, and instead of coming back, he ran a short distance up the street, and then stopped, barking joyously, and looking back to see if she were following. Bessie went down the steps, calling him over and over again in such a coaxing voice, that it was strange even such a wilful doggie could resist. But it was of no use. Away went Flossy as fast as he could run, and frightened at the thought of losing her pet, and forgetting everything else, away went Bessie after him. Up to the end of the block, around the corner, and so down the other side of the square, till they came to the long, crowded crossing, over which Bessie was never allowed to go without some grown person to hold her hand. Over it went Flossy, in and out among the carriages and omnibuses, escaping the wheels and the horses' hoofs in a way that was quite wonderful to see, until he reached the opposite corner, where he again waited for Bessie. But poor Bessie dared not cross by herself, and stood still in great trouble.

"I wish I was over at the hotel," she said to herself, as she looked up at the great building opposite, "and then the colonel would take me home."

There was generally a tall policeman on the corner, whom Bessie knew quite well, for he had often taken her hand, and led her over, or sometimes even carried her if the stones were wet; but now he was not there. In his place was another, who was a stranger to her, and now he came over to her corner Bessie went up to him.

"Will you please tell me where my policeman is, sir?" she said.

"Who is your policeman?" said the officer.

"I don't know his name, but he takes me over the crossing, and mamma don't 'low me to go alone."

"I suppose I can take you over as well as another," said he; "but your mother must be a queer one to allow you to go out alone at all."

"She didn't," said Bessie, "and I didn't mean to, but Flossy yan away, and I went to get him. Please take me over; I am afraid somebody will catch him; then I'll go to the colonel's yoom, and he'll take me home."

The policeman lifted her up, and carried her to the opposite sidewalk. Flossy was off again as soon as he saw her near him, but the officer ran after him, and soon had him safe in Bessie's arms.

"And what are you going to do now?" said the good-natured man. "You're over small for running about the streets by yourself."

"I am going to the colonel's," said Bessie. "I know the way, and he'll take care of me."

She thanked him, and ran off; but the policeman followed till he saw her go into the hotel as if she were quite sure of her way.

"She's all right," he said to himself, and then went back to his post, thinking no more about the little stray lamb whom he had only helped into farther trouble.

Bessie found her way without difficulty to the colonel's room, and seeing the door open, she peeped in. There was no one there but a servant-woman, who was dusting.

"Where is my soldier?" asked Bessie.

"Your soldier?" said the woman. "If you mean the lame gentleman, he and the lady have gone out to ride. I don't want you here bothering round with your dogs. Go back to your own rooms;" for the woman supposed Bessie to be some child who belonged in the hotel.

"My soldier lets me come in his yoom when I choose, and it isn't yours to talk about," said Bessie, very much offended, and she walked away with her head very straight.

What should she do now? She would go back to the corner, she thought, and ask her friend, the policeman, to take her home. But she was becoming a little confused and frightened with all her troubles, and when she left the hotel, turned the wrong way. On she went, farther and farther from home, though she did not know it, and expected every moment to see the well-known crossing. Some few people turned and looked at her, as she passed with her dog clasped in her arms; but she did not act at all like a lost child, and it was easy enough to think that she was some little girl playing about her home and perhaps watched by loving eyes.

At last she came near a broad avenue, where the cars were passing up and down, and then she knew she was not on her way home. But just then she heard music, and her eye was caught by a new sight. Quite a crowd was gathered upon the sidewalk, where were two men, one with a hand-organ, the other with a table on which little figures of gayly-dressed men and women were spinning around. Bessie stopped to look, standing back from the crowd; but three or four rough boys who were hanging about took notice of her and her dog. Presently they came up to her.

"Whose dog is that?" asked one.

"Mine and Maggie's," said Bessie.

"You give him to me, and I'll give you this," said the boy taking a large red apple from his pocket.

"I can't even if I wanted to," said Bessie, "'cause he's half Maggie's."

"Well, you give me your half, and Maggie's will run after it."

"No," said the little girl. "I wouldn't give you my Flossy for fifty seventeen apples;" and she walked away, but the boys followed.

"Where did you get so much hat?" said one.

"It is not much," said Bessie. "It is old and torn, 'cause I carried peach-pits and stones in it. Mamma is going to give it away."

"I don't know who'd thank her for it," said another. "I guess your ma spent all her money on your frock, and left none for your hat."

"She didn't," said Bessie, angrily; "she has plenty left."

"She's right stingy, then, to give you such a hat; it's only fit for the gutter, so here goes!" and the rude boy twitched off the unlucky hat, and sent it flying into the middle of the street, where a car passed over it. Bessie did not care much about her hat, but she was frightened and displeased.

"You are very yude," she said, "and I wont walk by you. You sha'n't talk so about my mamma."

"Maybe we'll walk by you though," said the boy, and they kept by her side for a few steps farther, when suddenly, with a loud yelp of pain, Flossy sprang from her arms, for one of the boys had pinched his tail so as to hurt him very much. The boys shouted, Flossy ran, they after him, and the next moment one of them caught him up, and they all disappeared with him round the corner.

Bessie ran on a few steps and then stood still, crying loudly with terror and distress. Several persons immediately stopped, asking her what ailed her, and if she were lost; but she only called, "Oh, Flossy, Flossy! oh, mamma! oh, Maggie."

Among the people who stopped, was an old lady, who looked at Bessie through her spectacles in rather a severe manner, and as she asked questions in a quick, sharp way, the little girl felt afraid of her, and would not answer. Poor lost baby! There she stood, bareheaded, with the wind blowing her curls, her tiny hands over her face, crying so pitifully that some of those who stood by felt as if they must cry with her, but still no one could get a word from her.

But presently a policeman came by, and Bessie, looking up, saw him and was a little comforted; for though he, too, was a stranger, she felt somehow as if every policeman was a friend; and she ceased her loud cries, though her sobs still came heavy and fast.

"Here's a lost child," said one of the crowd.

"Please take me home, sir," said Bessie, stretching out her hands to him.

The tall officer was pleased, and, stooping, lifted the little creature in his arms.

"Where do you belong?" he asked, kindly.

"In mamma's house," said Bessie.

"And where is mamma?"

"In a committee," answered the child.

"Humph!" said the old lady, who stood close at the policeman's side, "in a committee, with a parcel of other foolish women, I suppose, while her babies go running wild about the streets. She'd better attend to her own affairs."

"She hadn't," said Bessie, who thought every one had something to say against her own dear mother, – "she hadn't, and you are naughty to say that. She's a nice, pretty lady, and better than anybody, and not a bit foolish; and, oh, I do want her so, I do want her so!" and she began to cry afresh.

"There then, never mind!" said the policeman; "we'll find her pretty soon. Can't you tell me where you live?"

Bessie had long since been taught this, but now, in her fright and distress, she quite forgot the street and number of the house, and only shook her head.

"Tell me your name then," said the man.

"Bessie – Yush – Byad-ford," sobbed the child.

"Brightford – Brightford," repeated the policeman. "Does any one here know any people of the name of Brightford?"