“I am sorry to trouble you. I am very fond of little children. Pray can you tell me who that child is, there?”
Mrs. Parrot drew to the window, evidently finding nothing odd in the question, and said:
“Why, that’s little Nelly Holdsworth, Mrs. Conway’s daughter.”
“Ah!” exclaimed Holdsworth.
“She is a dear!” continued Mrs. Parrot. “I am very fond of that child, Mr. Hampden. She’s the only child i’ the road I allow to come into my garden, for children are so wilful, there’s no tellin’ what they’ll do the moment your eyes are off ’em. See what a little lady she looks, and how prettily she holds her doll! She’s waiting for her mamma, I suppose.”
Mrs. Parrot rapped with her nails on the window. The child looked round, and Holdsworth shrank away. Mrs. Parrot beckoned. Holdsworth would have stopped her, but could find no words.
“She’s coming, Mr. Hampden. I’ll bring her to you, sir, if you’ll wait a moment.”
And out she went.
In a few seconds she returned, leading by the hand the child, who hung back when she caught sight of the white-faced, bearded man.
“There, Mr. Hampden, this is my pretty young friend, little Nelly!” exclaimed Mrs. Parrot, stooping to give the child a kiss. “Go and shake hands with the gentleman, my dear, and show him your nice doll. I’ll tell you when I see your mamma.”