The big woman gave the child a little shake when she had placed her on the bench.
“There now, Celia Moran!” she snapped. “You stay put; will yer? I never seen no child more like an eel than you be.”
“Am—am I really like a—neel, Mrs. Hogan?” demanded the little girl, timidly. “Do—does a—neel have feets an’ hands?”
“You shet up with your questions!” commanded the woman, shaking a finger at her. “As sure as me name’s Ann Hogan I’d never tuk ye from that Findling Asylum if I’d knowed ye had a tongue in your mout’ that’s hung in the middle and wags both ends. Sorra the day I tuk ye!”
Little Celia Moran put a tentative finger in her mouth to see if it was verily so—that her tongue was “hung” different from other people’s tongues.
“Are—are you sure my tongue’s that way, Mrs. Hogan?” she asked, plaintively as the big woman was turning away. “It—it feels all right.”
“Now, you shet up!” warned Mrs. Hogan, wrathfully. “Ax me another question an’ I’ll spank ye—so I will! I’m goin’ now to find Jim Bentley’s waggin’. Do you sit right there still—don’t move! If ye do, I’ll know it when I come back an’ ’twill be the wuss for ye.”
With this threat the big woman departed with an angry stride. Dorothy had stopped to listen to the conversation; and she was greatly interested in the little girl. She immediately went and sat down by Celia Moran.
She was not a very big girl for her age, being thin and “wriggly.” It did seem quite impossible for her to keep either her limbs or her tongue still.
But she was, without doubt, a most appealing little thing. Dorothy smiled at her, and Dorothy’s smile was bound to “make friends” with any one.