"Well, he wont like that, nor you either; it's poisonous, and I shouldn't wonder if you'd got poisoned, Bab. Don't touch it; swamp-sumach is horrid stuff, Miss Celia said so," and Ben looked anxiously at Bab, who felt her chubby face all over and examined her dingy hands with a solemn air, asking eagerly:
"Will it break out on me 'fore I get to the circus?"
"Not for a day or so, I guess; but it's bad when it does come."
"I don't care, if I see the animals first. Come quick and never mind the old weeds and things," said Bab, much relieved, for present bliss was all she had room for now in her happy little heart.
(To be continued.)
THE LITTLE ITALIAN FLOWER-MERCHANT.