Instantly there broke from the grey parcel a little moaning cry, and from it there protruded a small, scared face, with very bright brown eyes, and two little speckled, dimpled fists.
"You've hurt me!" said a childish voice reproachfully.
"Have I though," the man answered penitently, "I didn't go for to do it." As he spoke he unwrapped the grey shawl and extricated a pretty little girl of about five years of age, whose dainty shoes and smart pink frock with its little linen apron all bespoke a mother's care.

The child was pale and wan, but her healthy arms and legs showed that she had suffered less than her companion.
"How is it now ?" he answered anxiously, for she was still rubbing the towsy golden curls which covered the back of her head.
"Kiss it and make it well," she said, with perfect gravity, shoving [19] the injured part up to him.

"That's what mother used to do.

Where's mother ?" "Mother's gone.

I guess you'll see her before long." "Gone, eh!" said the little girl.