Why, there's not one on 'em left!' 'She's a sad spoilt little puss!' said Sylvia, holding out her arms to the child, who ran into them, and began patting her mother's cheeks, and pulling at the soft brown curls tucked away beneath the matronly cap.

'Mammy spoils her, and Hester spoils her----' 'Granny Rose doesn't spoil me,' said the child, with quick, intelligent discrimination, interrupting her mother's list.
'No; but Jeremiah Foster does above a bit.

He'll come in fro' t' Bank, Kester, and ask for her, a'most ivery day.

And he'll bring her things in his pocket; and she's so fause, she allays goes straight to peep in, and then he shifts t' apple or t' toy into another.

Eh! but she's a little fause one,'-- half devouring the child with her kisses.