CHAPTER II.
Amy was a good little girl, and she tried very hard not to cry; but she sat pressed very close to her mother's side, with her large blue eyes full and overflowing with tears. Dick, who was very tender-hearted, begged her to eat his toffee, which would have been comforting; but nurse would not allow it at any price.
"No, Miss Amy," she said, "I won't hear of it—not in your pretty blue dress. And don't lean upon your mamma; you'll wear the life out of her."
Amy pressed her soft cheek against her mother's arm, and looked up in her face with her tearful blue eyes. She was relieved to see just the shadow of a smile.
"Give me Master Alick, nurse," said Mrs. Beauchamp; "I am afraid he has toothache.—There! see, Alick, all the pretty green fields going past outside."
"It's us that is going past," said Dick.
"Hold me too, mother," said Amy suddenly; "take me in your arms like you do Alick."
"But Alick will cry if I put him down. See, I can manage like that; there is room for both of you."
She made a large lap, and Amy scrambled on to it. It was like a nest with two birds in it—not very restful, perhaps, to the nest, but quite delightful for the birds. They were very good little birds, too, and they did not quarrel; and presently Amy nudged mother's arm, and spoke in the tiniest whisper. "One of the birds has gone to sleep," she said.
Alick's eyes were shut, and his round, flushed face was lying on mother's hand. When she tried to take it gently away he stirred, and squeaked restlessly.