“Don’t want any, little one,” said the young man pleasantly, “the sight of you is worth all the money and more.” Then the couple hurried away.
But their stopping had attracted many more, and a dozen bought of Katie, and, though few were as generous as her first customers, she soon disposed of most of her stock at ten cents a bunch, having gained courage to fix and state her price. Quite a number gave her more than that sum, and she began to feel a very rich little girl, indeed.
More than half her stock was sold, when an old gentleman and a young lady came along. The lady, as usual, was the first to admire the bright bunches, she took two, the old gentleman giving Katie fifty cents and telling her that “was right.” He seemed a cross old man, but still spoke pleasantly.
“What’s your name, child?” he asked.
“Katie Wilson, sir,” replied the little girl, faintly.
“Um! um! Come along Helen,” said he, hastily, and hurried away.
These were the last of the excursion parties, except an elderly lady having in charge a dozen children, all dressed alike; little ones from a soldiers’ orphan school, for whom some kind person had provided a day’s pleasure. They were tired and worn out with romping, and dragged along slowly; they looked at Katie’s bright face and longingly at the pretty leaves in her basket. The girl’s heart was touched; timidly she held out a bunch to a little boy who half stopped in front of her, he took it eagerly; in a moment the others were about her. By good fortune, she had enough to give on to each and an extra bunch to the lady.
With the thanks of these poor children in her heart, an empty basket and a happy jingle in her pocket she ran nearly all the way home, burst in on Bessie, put her arms about her neck and sobbed for happiness.
When the elder sister at last succeeded in calming her, she told the whole story of her afternoon’s work.
Together they counted the money—three dollars and eighty-five cents—just think of it!