"You can't see my bonnet; you can't see anything, you're blind-eyed;
but," said Fly, glancing sharply around, "it isn't pretty here, at all;
and there's a dead cat right in the street."

"Yes, I think likely."

"And there's a boy. I spect he frowed the cat out the window; he hasn't
nuffin on but dirty cloe's."

"Do you see some steps?" said the blind girl, putting her hand out
cautiously. "Don't fall down."

"I shan't fall down; I'm going home."

"O, don't child; you must come with me. My mother will take care of
you."

"I don't want nobody's mother to take 'are o' me; I've got a mamma
myself!"

"How little you know!" said the blind girl, thinking aloud; "how lucky
it is I found you! and O, dear, how I wish I could see! You'll slip
away in spite of me."

But Flyaway allowed herself to be drawn along, step by step, partly
because she liked the "freckled dog," and partly because she had not
ceased being amused by the droll sight of a person walking with closed
eyes.

"What's the name of you, girl?"