“If I catch you at that work again I’ll give you five dozen,” said his new acquaintance.
“Is this his?” said he, touching the carpet-bag with his cane.
“Yes, sir, please.”
He took it in his hand, and glanced at the boy—I think it was in his mind to make him carry it. But the child was slender, and the bag, conscientiously packed with everything that had ever belonged to him, was a trifle too heavy.
“Anything else?” demanded the Sergeant-Major.
“This—this, God bless him.”
It was the little box with his ships.
“And this;” and she thrust the griddle cake, broken across and rolled up in brown paper, into the boy’s pocket.
“And these;” and three apples she had ready, she thrust after them.
“And ho! my blessed darlin’, my darlin’, darlin’, darlin’.”