“That’s it, but how did you know?” and the great eyes, so very black and inquisitive, looked wonderingly at Bee, who answered:
“I am Beatrice Belknap, the lady for whom you were named, and I’ve come to see you. I used to know your father. Is he well?”
“Papa? Yes, he’s very well, but mamma,” and the child put on a very wise and confidential look as she added in a whisper, “mamma’s shiffless all the time.”
Bee could not repress a smile at this quaint form of speech, and she asked:
“And do you take care of baby? Is there no nurse?”
“We had Leah over home,” Trixey said, “but she couldn’t come with us, ’cause we’re so poor, an’ papa has no money.”
“But he buyed me some yed soos,” Bunchie said, sticking up her little feet, encased in a new pair of red morocco shoes, the first she had ever had or probably seen.
How Beatrice’s heart yearned over these little ones who had known only poverty, and how she longed to lavish upon them a part of her superfluous wealth. There was a stir on the bed; the sleeper was waking, and a faint voice called:
“Trixey, are you here?”
“Yes, mamma. I’ve rocked brother to seep,” Trixey said, starting up, but holding fast to the baby as a cat holds to its kitten. “There’s a lady here, mamma, comed to see us,” the child continued, and then Mrs. Morton roused quickly, and turning on her side fixed her great sunken eyes inquiringly on Beatrice, who stepped forward, and with that winning sweetness and grace so natural to her, said: