“Goat ran away from the Odd-Fellow’s Lodge, over there. The poor creature is nearly starved; I’m taking it back.”
CHAPTER VI.
A PHILANTHROPIC SCHEME.
One morning, when the mumps were a thing of the past, Eunice and Cricket walked along to school arm-in-arm. Cricket swung her books, as usual, by the long strap, and Eunice had hers snugly tucked under her arm. Both were chattering as fast as their busy tongues could wag. As they turned around the corner into a quiet street, the sound of a crying child attracted their attention, though at first there was nothing to be seen.
“There it is,” said Cricket. “See that mite up there.”
The “mite” was a funny-looking little thing about three years old, poorly dressed, bareheaded, with a little flaxen pig-tail sticking out behind each ear. The child stood at the top of some steps, wailing steadily, and beating its little blue fists against the door.
“It’s been shut out, poor little thing,” said Eunice, running up the steps and ringing the bell, vigorously. “Wait a moment, Cricket, till someone comes to the door.”
The baby stopped crying and surveyed her new friend with a pair of staring, pale-blue eyes.
It was certainly a very dirty baby, and Eunice wondered at its belonging to such a nice-looking house. Then a trim maid opened the door.
“I found this baby, here, trying to get in,” began Eunice, civilly, “so I rang the bell for her, and waited till you came to take her in.”
The trim maid surveyed the baby in indignant scorn.