A beautiful boy of about seven years sprang up from his game of marbles,—he was playing with a lot of young urchins on the pavement. They were about half-way down the steep hill now, and Ollie had not seen his sister until she called out his name; how his black eyes danced when he saw her! And with what glee he held up a fourpenny piece, crying,—
"See what I have here! A monsieur gave me this for picking up his whip!"
"Why, you've been very fortunate to-day, Ollie—twopence in the morning for carrying a parcel, and now this; how much is it—fourpence? Well done, Ollie!"
"Take it, Ruthie; I may lose it," the boy said gravely, and then returned to his marbles.
"We live here, sir," said Ruth, stopping at the door of a small bakery. "Good-bye, and I hope you will like your shirts."
Mr. Trulock shook hands with her—a mode of saying good-bye which seemed to puzzle her not a little. He lingered until she had passed through the shop. She paused and bought a fourpenny loaf, and he heard her ask for:
"A stale one, if you please, ma'am;" then she vanished through a door behind the counter, and Ralph entered the shop.
"Plain or fancy, sir?" said the old woman who stood behind the counter.
"I don't want any bread, thank you," Ralph answered; "I want to ask a question about the child who has just passed through your shop."
"Do you know anything about her, sir?" asked the woman eagerly.