“Well, run away now, any gate. If to peddlin’ ’twould be best; if to s’archin’ fer one old blind man in this big Ne’ York what’s full of ’em as haymows o’ needles, so be it, an’ good luck to ye. But what am I to be preachin’ work an’ practicin’ play? Off with ye an’ hender me no more!”
So to the tune of a vigorous rub-a-dub-dub, Glory vanished from her good friend’s sight, though the hearts of both would have ached could they have foreseen how long delayed would be their next meeting.
Comforted and now wholly hopeful that her determined search would have a speedy, happy ending, Take-a-Stitch hurried back to the littlest house whose narrow door stood open to its widest, yet she paused on the threshold, amazed, incredulous, not daring to enter and scarcely daring to breathe, lest she disturb the wonderful vision which confronted her.
For the desolate home was no longer desolate. There was one within who seemed to fill its dim interior with a radiance and beauty beyond anything the child of the Lane had ever dreamed. Meg’s words and wish returned to her and, clasping her hands, she cried in rapture, “Oh! it’s come! My Guardian Angel!”
CHAPTER VIII
With Bonny as Guide
Glory was truthful and loving, and her grandfather had taught her to be clean, honest, and industrious, but, beyond this, she had had little training. She knew that Meg-Laundress and Posy Jane both firmly believed in “Guardian Angels” who hovered about human beings to protect and prosper them. She had inferred that these “Angels” were very beautiful but had never asked if they were ever visible or, if so, what form they took.
Glory felt now that she would never need to ask about the “Angels” for the small creature before her answered all these unspoken inquiries; a mite of a thing, in silken white, with glistening golden curls and the roundest, loveliest of big blue eyes, who sat on the floor smiling and gurgling in an unknown language, yet gravely regarding Bo’sn who, firm upon his haunches, as gravely regarded this astonishing intruder. The tiny visitor was so unlike any crony captain or ragged newsboy that the dog was perplexed, yet as evidently pleased, for his eyes were shining, his mouth “laughing” and his stump of a tail doing its utmost to wag. As Glory appeared in the doorway, he cast one welcoming glance over his shoulder, then with the same intensity, returned to his contemplation of the child.