Maggie could hardly believe her own eyes. She went forward more slowly, till Bessie called to her,—
"O Maggie, dear! this old man wouldn't hurt us, or cut our hair for any thing. He likes little girls, and it made him feel badly because we ran away from him, and he is going away now 'cause he thinks we don't like him. Come and tell him not to."
Timid Maggie, feeling very doubtful, but determined to share her sister's risk, whatever that might be—she had almost forgotten that Hattie had confessed she only wanted to trick them all—drew still nearer, and taking Bessie's hand, gazed up at the old man with eyes in which pity and sympathy began to struggle with her former fear. He looked so poor and feeble and helpless, so little like doing harm to any one.
And now came Dora and Gracie, who had followed Maggie in search of Bessie; and as the little group gathered about the old man, Bessie said,—
"Where is your Jessie? Can we call her to you?"
"I can't tell, little Miss," he answered. "I've been sitting here more than an hour, I take it. Jessie was so eager about her parrot that she has maybe forgotten how long she's been away. Ah! there she comes now."
As he spoke, a child came running towards them, but seeing the group about her grandfather, paused in amazement at a short distance.
It was the very same little girl to whom they had thrown sugar-plums but an hour since, and who had looked so disappointed. The children recognized her immediately.
"Why! that's the little girl who was not pleased with our sugar-plums," said Bessie. "Is that your Jessie?"