“Look, mamma, that little boy has got no shoes and stockings on! Shall Sunny take off hers and give them to that poor little boy?”
And she was proceeding to unbutton her shoes, when her mamma explained that—the boy being quite a big boy—Sunny’s shoes would certainly not fit him, and if they did, he would probably not put them on; since in Scotland little boys and girls often go barefooted, and like it. Had not papa once taken off Sunny’s shoes and stockings, and let her run about upon the soft warm grass of the lawn, calling her “his little Scotch girl?”
Sunny accepted the reasoning, but still looked perplexed at the bare feet. They were “so dirty,” and she cannot bear to have the least speck of dirt on feet or hands or clothes, or anywhere about her. Her Auntie Weirie, on whose lap she sat, and of whom she had taken entire possession,—children always do,—was very much amused.
She put them safely into the train, which soon started,—on a journey which mamma knew well, but which seemed altogether fresh when seen through her child’s eyes. Such wonderful things for Sunshine to look at! Mountains,—she thoroughly understood mountains now; and a broad river, gradually growing broader still, until it was almost sea. Ships, too—some with sails, and some with chimneys smoking; “a puff-puff on the water,” Sunny called them. Every now and then there was a little “puff-puff” dragging a big ship after it, and going so fast, fast,—the big ship looking as proud as if it were sailing along all by its own self, and the little one puffing and blowing as busily as possible. Sunny watched them with much curiosity, and then started a brilliant idea.
“That’s a papa-boat and that’s a baby-boat, and the baby-boat pulls the papa-boat along! So funny!”
And she crumpled up her little face, and, tossing up her head, laughed her quite indescribable laugh, which makes everybody else laugh too.
There were various other curious things to be seen on the river, especially some things which mamma told her were called “buoys.” These of course she took to mean little “boys,” and looked puzzled, until mamma described them as “big red thimbles,” which she understood, and noticed each one with great interest ever afterward.
But it would be vain to tell all the things she saw, and all the delight she took in them. Occasionally her little face grew quite grave, such difficulty had she in understanding the wonders that increased more and more. And when at last the journey was ended and the train stopped, the little girl was rather troubled, and would not let go of her mamma for a single minute.
For the lovely autumn weather of yesterday had changed into an equinoctial gale. Inland, one did not so much perceive it, but at the seaside it was terrible. People living on that coast will long remember this particular day as one of the wildest of the season, or for several seasons. The wind blew, and the sea roared, as even mamma, who knew the place well, had seldom heard. Instead of tiny wavelets running after Sunny’s little feet, as had been promised her, there were huge “white horses” rising and falling in the middle of the river; while along the shore the waves kept pouring in, and dashing themselves in and out of the rocks, with force enough to knock any poor little girl down. Sunny could not go near them, and the wind was so high that her hat had to be tied on; and her cloak, a cape of violet wool, which Auntie Weirie had rushed to fetch at the last minute, in case of rain, was the greatest possible blessing. Still, fasten it as Lizzie would, the wind blew it loose again, and tossed her curls all over her face in a furious fashion, which the little girl could not understand at all.
“Sunny don’t like it,” said she, pitifully; and, forgetful of all the promised delights,—shells, and pebbles, and castles of sand,—took refuge gladly indoors.