Bonny Angel, as she was from that time to be called by her new friend, was again gurgling and smiling and gaily radiant; and for some distance Glory sped along, equally radiant and wholly engrossed in watching the little face so near her own. It was, indeed, perfect in its infantile beauty and more than one passer-by paused to take a second glance at this odd pair, so unlike, and yet so well content.
After a short while, the aching of her arms made Glory realize that even infant “Angels” may become intolerably heavy, when clothed in healthy human form and carried indefinitely, so she set the little one down on its own small feet, though they seemed too dainty to rest upon the smirched stones of the pavement which just there was even more begrimed than that of the Lane itself.
Then she saw that they had halted beside a coal-yard in an unfamiliar part of the city, but there were throngs of people hurrying past them toward some point beyond, and though many observed, none paused to address the children. Bonny was now rested and active and merrily started in the same direction, across the gangplank to the floor of a crowded ferry-boat. The ferry-men supposed them to belong to some older passengers and let them pass unchallenged; nor did Bonny Angel cease her resolute urging forward till they had come to the very edge of the further deck and stood looking down into the river.
Almost at once, the boat began to move and Glory was as delighted as Bonny by the rush of the wind on her face and by the novel sights of the water. After all, this search for grandpa was proving the pleasantest of outings, for, though the goober-seller had often peddled her nuts at the landings of other ferries, she had never before crossed any. She gave the baby a fresh deluge of kisses, exclaiming, “Oh, you dear knowin’ darlin’! He has gone this way an’ you’re leadin’ me!”
“Bonny come!” cried the “Angel,” with a seraphic smile.
Glory smiled back, all anxiety at rest. She was going to grandpa, with this tiny “Guardian” an unerring guide. Why should one fear aught while the sun shone so brightly, and over on the further shore she could see trees waving and green terraces rising one above the other? Surely, grandpa had done well to leave the dingy Lane for such a beautiful place, and she was glad, yes, certainly she was glad that she had come.
But the boat trip came to an end all too soon, and, because they were so near the landing side, they were crowded off the broad deck before Glory was quite ready and, in the onrush of hurrying passengers, Bonny Angel’s hand was wrested from her grasp.
“Oh, take care there, my Angel! I mustn’t lose her!” cried Take-a-Stitch, distraught at seeing her treasure swept off her tiny feet in the crush.
“In course you mustn’t, sissy!” cried a hearty, kindly voice, as a timely deck-hand caught up the child and restored her to Glory’s arms. “’Course not; though there’s many a one would snap at such a beauty, if you give ’em a chance. Tight-hold her, sissy, for such posies as her don’t grow on every bush!”
With that, the man in blue shirt and overalls not only gave Bonny a besmirching pat on her snowy shoulder, but safely handed Glory herself across the swaying plank to the quay beyond.