“See! there she goes, with a basket on her arm and a cane in her hand.”
“Yes, and here she is again on this side, fast asleep, and her basket of eggs sitting by her,” said Mary; “now let me read the next:
“‘She went to market,
All on a market day,
And she fell asleep
On the king’s highway.”
Now do you read about the peddler, brother. Mother used to say there was a naughty word in it.”
“I will,” cried the youth, eagerly; but he paused and looked steadfastly at the picture before him.
“Why don’t you read?” asked Mary, endeavouring to confine his thoughts to the childish employment.
“That’s a pretty skin, ain’t it?” said he, pointing to the red shawl painted on the picture.