“Won't any bats come?”
“Lord, no! Your Uncle Dan'l won't let any bats come within a gun-shot.”
The little creature settled down contentedly in the old man's lap. Her fair, thin locks fell over his shirt-sleeved arm, her upturned profile was sweetly pure and clear even in the dusk. She was so delicately small that he might have been holding a fairy, from the slight roundness of the childish limbs and figure. Poor little girl!—Dan'l was much too small and thin. Old man Daniel gazed down at her anxiously.
“Jest as soon as the nice fall weather comes,” said he, “uncle is going to take you down to the village real often, and you can get acquainted with some other nice little girls and play with them, and that will do uncle's little Dan'l good.”
“I saw little Lucy Rose,” piped the child, “and she looked at me real pleasant, and Lily Jennings wore a pretty dress. Would they play with me, uncle?”
“Of course they would. You don't feel quite so hot, here, do you?”
“I wasn't so hot, anyway; I was afeard of bats.”
“There ain't any bats here.”
“And skeeters.”
“Uncle don't believe there's any skeeters, neither.”