"Let me see them, my good woman," said Mr. Bond; "I'll make all right if they suit," and he went puffing up the three flights of stairs, while Nannie pattered after him with the infant, drabling her wet garments over the clean floors, to the no small annoyance of the landlady. "These'll do, these'll do," said Mr. Bond, with a gleesome tone, as he looked from the windows upon the blue waters, where the boats were gliding busily back and forth, and whence the pure fresh breeze came up even into the rooms, giving them a healthful air. "This is to be your home now, Nannie, and you may be sure I'll help you to be somebody if you'll help yourself;" and, turning to the woman, he told her the reason of the child's pitiable condition, and payed her in advance a quarter's rent, giving her also some money with which to procure a dry suit for the children; and then he departed to send the few articles of furniture from their former abode, to which he added a bedstead and bedding, a nice cooking-stove, a couple of chairs, and a few other conveniences.
Nannie was almost beside herself for joy as she surveyed the snug and cheerful apartment, and the new goods as they stood in their respective places. The chairs were by the windows, and the stool occupied a prominent position before the new stove; the old table was covered with an oil-cloth, and a brass candlestick and snuffers were upon it. There was a pound of crackers, and a loaf of bread; and a pint of milk, and a new tin cup and pewter spoon for Winnie, and Nannie hastened to give the starving child some of the fresh milk, while she sat beside the pleasant window wondering if Mr. Bond was one of the angels that her teacher used to tell her about—and then she laid the baby upon the soft bed in its cradle, and put a new blanket over it, and peeping into the bedroom again to see if she hadn't been dreaming there was a real bedstead there, all nicely furnished and dressed, she went off to seek her mother, locking the door carefully after her as her kind friend had directed.
CHAPTER V.
It was hard to hurry him off so and to cover him up from the face of his own wife, even if he was a loathsome drunkard! But they couldn't keep him there long, for new victims were constantly arriving, and he must give place to them, and so they hustled him off in a deal box, without pall, or procession, or priest, and they did not mind the woman and child that followed on and stood side by side at the place of his burial; but they covered him over with the damp earth, and never a prayer above his head; and so they went away again, perchance to repeat the office for another miserable one.
"Mother," says Nannie, as the hardened band moved away leaving the one mourning heart by itself, "mother, come home now, 'tis no use staying here, and baby'll be crying for ye, ye know."
Baby!—oh! what a link to earth was that!
"Where is the child?" said the mother, with a frantic start, as if just awakened from a frightful dream. "Isn't she dead, Nannie? Didn't they just bury her with your father?" and she cast herself upon the moist turf, and tore her disheveled hair until the very wildness of her sorrow calmed her. Then she suffered Nannie to lead her away. It was a long distance; but they reached it at last, and the mother rushed quickly up the stairs, not seeming conscious of the change, as she heard the child's cries; for the poor little thing, unused to such long neglect, made all ring again with its screams.
"Did you say this was home, Nannie, or is it heaven, child?" said the woman, as her babe was hushed, and she became somewhat awake to her new position.
The sun was streaming upon the floor, and wall, and the snowy curtains were fluttering in the pure breeze, and the blue waves were dancing and sparkling in the bay, and white sails were moving rapidly about, and from the windows two beautiful islands were visible with their summer verdure, and the bewildered mother pressed her hand to her forehead, as if trying to unravel the mystery, when Mr. Bond's fat and merry face peered in at the door.