Peggy gazed at her for a moment or two. Then an idea struck her. She ran back into the nursery and seized a bun—the odd bun.
"They're all mine, you know," she called out to Baldwin; "but we'll have two each still."
Baldwin looked up in surprise. "What are you going to do with it?" he began to say, but Peggy was out of sight.
She was soon downstairs, and easily opened the back door. But the yard door was fastened; she found some difficulty in turning the big key. She managed it at last, however, and saw to her delight that Brown Smiley was still there.
"Brown," began Peggy, but suddenly recollecting that the Smileys had real names, she stopped short, and ran across the street. "I can't 'amember your name," she exclaimed, breathlessly, "but I've brought you this," and she held out the bun.
Brown Smiley's face smiled all over.
"Lor', miss," she exclaimed. "You are kind, to be sure. Mayn't I give it to Lizzie? She's been very bad to-day, and she's eat next to nought. This 'ere'll be tasty-like."
"Lizzie," repeated Peggy, "which is Lizzie? Oh yes, I know, it's Crippley."
Brown Smiley looked rather hurt.
"It's not her fault, miss," she said. "I'd not like her to hear herself called like that."