“Don’t go away, please,” said Mary. “I was only coming to bring you some cakes. My aunty gave me some, and there were more than I wanted, so I brought some out for you. Wouldn’t you like some?” And she held the plate out to them over the little iron gate.
BERTY, TIM, AND MARY.
The cakes looked very inviting, and the little girl’s manner was so courteous that it would have seemed quite uncivil to refuse; so Tim made his best bow, and Berty dropped a courtesy, while each took a cake.
“Oh, take more, take them all; I meant them all for you,” said Mary, still holding out the plate. “If there are too many to eat now, you can put them in your pockets and take them home.”
“Take them, Berty,” said Tim, “since the little Miss is so kind. I can put them in my basket for you, and the childer will be glad of them; they don’t get such every day, ye know.”
“So you have some brothers and sisters?” said Mary, after the plate was emptied and the contents stowed in Tim’s basket. “How many?”
“There are four younger than me, Miss,” answered Berty: “two boys and two girls.”
“And I have two,—a brother and sister. Mine are twins. Are any of yours twins?”
“No, Miss; we all come in a row. Mother said we are like little steps,” said Berty.