“Yes, she is very fond of pets; she has left hers behind, and she misses them,” and again the mother’s eyes filled.
“I wish,—I wish you’d let me give her Tony—if—if you’d like her to have him.”
“Oh, thank you! No, no, I couldn’t allow you to deprive yourself.”
“I should be very willing, I assure you. I must give him away. I’m going to give him to some one when I get to the city. I can’t take him to college with me, and there’s no one in particular I care to give him to. I wish you’d let me give him to this little lady,” urged the handsome fellow, smiling into the child’s upturned eyes as he spoke.
“Oh, mama,—dear, sweet mama, let me have him; do, do let me have him!” cried Lady Jane, clasping her dimpled hands in entreaty.
“My dear, it would be so selfish to take it. You must not, indeed you must not,” said the mother, looking from the child to the boy in great perplexity.
“But if I wish it—it would be a pleasure to me,” insisted the boy, flushing with eager generosity.
“Well, I’ll think of it. You are really very kind,” she replied wearily. “We still have some hours to decide about it. I find it very hard to refuse the child, especially when you are so generous, but I think she ought not to take it.”
The boy took the basket with a disappointed air, and turned toward the seat opposite. “I hope you’ll decide to let her have it,” he said respectfully.
“Mama,” whispered Lady Jane with her face pressed close to her mother’s, “if you can, if you think it’s right, please let me have the blue heron. You know, I had to leave my kitten, and Carlo, and the lambs, and—and—I’m so sorry, and—I’m lonesome, mama.”