It had been a terrible trouble to the child's parents when, some months after her birth, they had learnt the truth, that the happy baby, whose rosebud lips seemed formed only for smiles, and whose eyes were "bits of Heaven's blue" as her young mother had used to declare, would never see the light of day, and they had grieved deeply. But Peggy had never appeared to realise how great was her affliction, and at the present time it would have been difficult, if not impossible, to find a more contented little girl. "Little Sunbeam" her father had nicknamed her years before, and a veritable sunbeam in the household she continued to be.
Peggy and her brother, who was only thirteen months her junior, had been sent to buy buns for tea, and she was holding the bag which contained them with one hand, whilst with the other she kept a firm grip of Billy's coat. She was not exactly nervous in a crowd, for she had been accustomed to London all her life, and her home was in a thickly populated district. But she experienced a sense of bewilderment as she listened to the hurrying footsteps on the pavement and the continual roll of carriage wheels, and she wished Billy would tire of looking into shop windows and return home.
"Come, Billy," she urged again, "mother will wonder what is keeping us. Do come."
Accordingly, Billy took his sister by the hand with an air of protection, and they walked on. At the corner of the street, they stood waiting for a favourable opportunity to cross.
"Is there a policeman near?" asked Peggy.
"There's one on the other side of the road," replied Billy, "but we don't want him. I can manage all right. When I say 'Now,' mind you come right on."
A minute later Billy cried, "Now!"
So, hand in hand, the children went fearlessly forward. And they would have effected the crossing in safety had not a private carriage, drawn by a pair of spirited horses, turned the corner from a side street. Billy hurried his sister on; but the road was slippery, and, in her haste, the little girl stumbled and let go her brother's hand. Some one flung Billy on one side, whilst the coachman driving the pair of horses pulled them back on their haunches in time to prevent a serious accident, but not before one of the animals had struck poor Peggy on the shoulder with its hoof. She was borne to the pavement in the arms of the policeman whose help Billy had disdained, and in a few minutes a small crowd had congregated.
"What has happened?" inquired an imperious voice from the interior of the carriage. "Is any one injured?"
"A little girl," answered the policeman. "I think she's more frightened than hurt, though," he added, as he set Peggy on the ground, and Billy, pale and frightened, rushed to her side.