“My bloder ’Ansey is doin’ to drow a big, big man. As big as dad. My bloder ’Ansey is doin’ to be a sailor in s’ips, and Babs is doin’. ’Oo mufn’t (mustn’t) take my bloder away from Babs. ’Oor mudder mufn’t, and noboddy mufn’t.”
Meanwhile her brother was nearly strangled by the vehemence of her affection. But he gently disengaged the little arm and set her on the moss once more. He speedily enveloped her in the shawl, and then hoisted her on his back.
Next he hung his bag in front, and handed the fishing-rod to Bob.
“We must all go now, lady.”
“Oh, yes, and we too must go. We have to thank you for a very interesting half-hour.”
Ransey wasn’t used to such politeness as this little speech indicated. What to say in reply did not readily occur to him.
“Wish,” he said awkwardly and shyly, “I could talk as nice like as you and t’other young lady.”
Miss Scragley smiled. She rather liked being thought a young lady even by a little canal boy like Ransey.
“Oh, you will some day. Can you read?”
“Ye-es. Mother taught me to read, and by-and-by I’ll teach Babs like one o’clock. I can read ‘Nick o’ the Woods’ and the ‘Rev’lations o’ Saint John;’ but Babs likes ‘Jack the Giant Killer’ better’n the Bible. An’ oh,” he added, somewhat proudly, “I got a letter to-day, and I could read that; and it was to say as how father was comin’ home in four days. And the postman cheeked us, and shook his head, threat’nin’ like, and I threw a big turmut and broke it.”