“What’s the matter, girlie?” asked Dick, and as he stopped his wife, too, halted perforce.
“My pettitoat’s comin’ down,” sobbed the child.
“Is that all?” said Dick. “I wouldn’t cry about such a little thing. I’ll soon fix it for you.” And he stooped.
“Dick,” said Lena imperatively, “there’s a carriage coming!”
“Let it come!” said Dick. “Sorry I haven’t a safety-pin, girlie, but I guess this one will do till you get home.” That impulsive interest in all varieties of human nature was so natural to him that he took for granted that it was a part of our common nature.
He looked up with a smile to see Lena’s face crimson with wrath and shame. Her expression sobered him.
“What’s the matter?” he demanded.
“It was Mrs. Lenox who drove by,” she urged. “And she looked so amused.”
“I don’t wonder. I’m amused myself,” he replied gaily.
“A nice thing for a gentleman to be seen doing,” Lena went on, with a voice growing shrill like her mother’s. “To play nursemaid to a dirty little street brat!” She had said things like this to him before, but always with that little smile and naughty-child air. Now, for the first time she forgot the smile, and this small omission made an astonishing difference in the impression.