“I’m so sorry,” said Miss Scragley, patting his hand.
“Oh, don’t ye do that, mum, and don’t talk kind to me, else I’ll cry. I feels the tears a-comin’ now. Nobody ever, ever talks kindly to me and Babs when at home, ’cepting father, in course, ’cause we’re on’y common canal folks and outcasts from serciety.”
Ransey Tansey was very earnest. Miss Scragley had really a kind heart of her own, only she couldn’t help smiling at the boy’s language.
“Who told you so?”
“W’y, the man as opens the pews.”
“Oh, you’ve been to church, then?”
“Oh, yes; went the other Sunday. Had nuthin’ better to do, and thought I’d give Babs a treat.”
“And did you go in those—clothes?”
“Well, mum, I couldn’t go with nuthin’ on—could I, now? An’ the pew-man just turned us both out. But Babs was so good, and didn’t cry a bit till she got out. Then I took her away through the woods to hear the birds sing; and mebbe God was there too, ’cause mother said He was everywhere.”
“Yes, boy, God is everywhere. And where does your mother sleep, Ransey?”