"She is a darling child. Mr. Boyd has adopted her, and he calls her Joy. We all call her Joy—little Miss Joy. Do you know anything about her?"
The lady grasped Mrs. Harrison's arm.
"Let me see Mr. Boyd," she said. "Wait till I see him."
The bargain in the shop was now completed, and the captain and mate were departing with their chronometer, when Uncle Bobo sang out to Patience—
"Glad to see you; the little one aloft is just hungry for a sight of you. Bet isn't come yet. She's to help her old grannie before she starts."
A bevy of little girls on their way to school now came up with flowers, and some ripe plums in a basket.
"Please will you give these to little Miss Joy?" the eldest of the four said, "with our love. Please, Mr. Boyd, how is she? is she better?"
"So they say, my dear; so they say. I wish I could say so too. But—well—never mind. Here, Mrs. Patience, take 'em aloft to the child. And now, ma'am, what can I show you?" Mr. Boyd said, turning to the lady.
"The child—you call—little Miss Joy," was the reply, in faint tones. "Mr. Boyd, you don't know me, and Mrs. Harrison does not know me. I was once Maggie Skinner, and Little Joy is my child!"
Uncle Bobo looked with a keen glance from under his bushy grey eyebrows into the lady's face.