A reminiscent smile broke over the vivid face.
"Daddy's Kistabel," she murmured softly, removing her eyes from his face and considering another bite.
"An' yer daddy might do worse nor kiss you, I reckon," admiringly; "but it's a rummy one, too."
The flash of the dark eyes opposite was irresistible. It awoke good thoughts in the potman's mind.
"You've runned away, I reckon?" he observed, bending forward.
Judy looked all over the ugly face thus presented to her immediate vision. Its corrugated surface fascinated her. Stretching one hand out, she softly touched the knobbly nose and laughed aloud, hunching her shoulders in glee.
Her own flower-like face was an equal attraction to the potman.
"Lilies an' roses ain't in it with her," he murmured admiringly. "An' eyes as big as plums and as dark as—stout."
"Where do yer live?" he next essayed.
"D'ink," said Judy, occupied with the problem of what was to be done with the bun whilst she drank from the mug beside her. "'Old!" she commanded, holding out the bun, as she realised that her own dangling legs made a very unstable, insufficient knee.