HOW THE CHRISTMAS ROSES BEGAN TO TAKE ROOT.
OLLIE GARLAND had been very happy making his daisy chain sitting on the ragged grass plot which formed the so-called garden in front of Ralph's house. He was too innocent, and so was Ruth, to be aware of the danger he incurred by playing in the streets with the little urchins of his own age, whom he met there; it was not exactly the school one would have chosen for a child hitherto kept rather too much apart. But he had taken no harm as yet. As water runs off the feathers of a water-bird, so evil failed to penetrate the soft armour of the boy's innocence. Still, he was happier in the Forest with Ruth, or even here, alone among the daisies. Presently his chain was so long that he determined to lay it along the gravel path, in order that its full magnificence might be seen by Ruth as she came out. But while thus occupied, he heard a voice calling:
"Boy! Little boy! You there—come here, I want to speak to you."
Ollie looked up; there was the fat old woman who had called him and his sister beggars; and it was to him she spoke, he perceived.
"Come here," she cried again, beckoning with her hand. "Come here, child. Bless the boy! I shan't eat you; I only want to speak to you."
Ollie took up his daisy chain and scrambled over the low stone wall which divided the gardens. Rather slowly and reluctantly, he went up the white steps and stood before Mrs. Short, whom he regarded with considerable disfavour, expressed in his large dark eyes.
"Here's a piece of luck!" murmured Mrs. Short. "Now I shall find out everything, in spite of old Crusty. Come in, child; don't bring that trumpery in to spoil my carpet, though."
She snatched the daisy chain from the child's unwilling hand, breaking it, of course, for daisy chains are not made to bear rough handling; throwing it down on the steps, she bore her captive off triumphantly, pushing him along before her. She took him to her parlour, and lifting him suddenly in her short, stout arms, plumped him down rather roughly on one of the least ornamental of her chairs.
Now, Ollie was a very quick child, and sensitive too, as quick children generally are; her muttered words about finding out everything had by no means escaped him, and had enlightened him as to the reason of his capture, of which he disapproved in every way, entirely disliking Mrs. Short's manners. So he quickly determined that whatever questions this dumpy dame asked him, he would answer in French, which came as natural to him as English, if not more so; but which he surmised would be quite the reverse of natural to Mrs. Short: at least, Mrs. Cricklade had failed to understand it.
"Well, child," said Mrs. Short, seating herself snugly in her padded chair, panting a little after her exertions, "Tell me now, what is your name?"