There Bonny Angel composedly seated herself upon a pile of dirty ropes and, rather than cross her desires, Glory also sat down. Both were much interested in the scene about them, though “Angel” soon forgot all else save Bo’sn who had followed, and who lay at her feet to rest his nose on his tired paws while he steadfastly gazed at this new charge. Already he seemed to have decided in his canine mind that she was to be guided and guarded as he had guided and guarded his lost master, and with an equal faithfulness.
Soon the rush and bustle of the boat’s return trip gave way to a corresponding quiet, and Goober Glory dreamily watched the wide deck, where she had stood, slip back and back between the water-worn piles out upon the murky river. The space between them widened and widened, continually, till the boat lessened in size to a mere point and, finally, became lost in the crowding craft of the Hudson’s mouth. As she saw it disappear, a sudden homesickness seized her and, springing to her feet, she stretched her arms longingly toward that further side which held all that she had ever known and loved, and cried aloud:
“Oh, I want to go back! It’s there I belong, and he isn’t here–I know he isn’t here!”
Then she felt a small hand clutch her skirt and turned about to see Bonny Angel’s face clouding with grief and her dainty under lip beginning to quiver piteously. A world of reproach seemed to dwell in her pleading, “Bonny come!” and Glory’s own cheerfulness instantly returned. Lifting the child again, she poised her on her own shoulder and started valiantly forward across the ferry-slip and past the various stands of the small merchants which lined the waiting-room walls. Thus elevated, Bonny Angel was just upon a level with one tempting display of cakes and candies, and the sight of them reminded her that it was time to eat. She took her arm from Glory’s neck, to which she had clung, made an unexpected dash for a heap of red confections, lost her balance, and fell head long in the midst.
CHAPTER IX
In the Ferry-House
Then up rose the old woman behind the stand, ready with tongue and fist to punish this destroyer of her stock; for the truth was that Miss Bonny was not an “Angel” at all, but what Nancy Smith had so common-sensibly judged her to be–a lost child. Such a plump and substantial child, as well, that her downfall crushed to a crimson flood the red “drops” she would have seized and utterly demolished another pile of perishable cakes.
“Save us and help us! You clumsy girl! What you mean, hurlin’ that young one onto my stand, that way? Well, you’ve spoiled a power of stuff an’ I only hope you can pay for it on the spot!”