[XIII. PREPARING FOR CHRISTMAS]
LITTLE SUNBEAM
[CHAPTER I]
KNOCKED DOWN
"COME along, Billy. Mother said we were not to be long; and I'm sure we've been more than half an hour."
The speaker—a little girl of about nine years old, clad in a somewhat shabby blue serge coat and skirt, with a Tam o' Shanter cap on her golden curls—tried to pull her brother away from the toy shop window into which he was gazing longingly; but he resisted, and still lingered.
"There's plenty of time, Peggy," he assured her. "You know we never have tea till five o'clock, and you can't imagine what a heap of jolly things there are in this window. I wish you could see them."
"I wish I could," she answered. "Never mind, you can tell me all about them by-and-by."
It was a cold, dull, February day; but it did not rain, and the street was thronged with vehicles, whilst the pedestrians—mostly of the lower classes, for the district was a poor one—hustled against each other on the pavements. No one took any notice of the two children who had been standing before a toy shop window for the last ten minutes. And, indeed, there was nothing about them to attract the observation of a casual observer, although the countenance of the little girl, with its finely-cut features and sweet expression, possessed a delicate beauty which was certainly out of the common. No one looking at Peggy Pringle would have guessed that she was blind, for her eyes, in colour the darkest blue, were as clear as crystal; but the sad fact was that the blessing of sight was denied to her.