"An', Guv, I've only took th' liberty o' sayin' this because my pore old bowels yearns to ye—both on ye. Persoot's the word, Guv, per-soot!"
The Old Un nodded, rose, and creaked away, and Ravenslee, looking after him, scowled no longer, but rising, sauntered across the trim garden to where there was a lily pool and, leaning over the marble rim, stared down into the placid water.
Now as the Old Un went his way, there met him a little girl, very neat and tidy, who sang to herself in a small happy voice and tapped along on a crutch; but beholding the Old Un, his dazzling shoes, his rakish hat, she stood silent all at once, glancing up wistfully into that fierce, battered old face.
"Lumme—crutches!" he exclaimed.
"No, please—only one, sir!" she answered, dropping him a little, old-fashioned curtsey.
"Crikey!" said he, staring, "so young, so tender, an'—a game leg! A little angel wi' a broke wing—lumme!"
So Age and Youth stared at each other and she, being a child, was quick to heed that the eyes so bright beneath their hoary brows were kindly eyes, and the smile upon the grim old mouth was very reassuring, wherefore she smiled also.
"Only one crutch, sir," she repeated. "An' the doctor says as I won't want it much longer, sir." Here, dropping another curtsey, she held up for his acceptance a bunch of wild flowers.
"What—f' me, little maid?" he enquired.
"Yes, please, sir."