with her restored baby clasped to her bosom!

"_They_ seed her," repeated the little fellow. "And that is why you
stand here--to see her, too?"

His shoulder turned uneasily in the clasp upon it.

"They seed her, and they ain't got no eyes."

"Have you no mother?"

"Ain't never had no mother." A thought struck him. "Would that count,
ma'am? Would that count? The little baby that was dying--yes, ma'am,
it had a mother; and it's the mothers that come here constant with
their children; I sometimes hear 'em dragging them in by the hand."

"How long have you been coming here?"

"Ever since the first time I heard it, ma'am."

Street ragamuffins do not cry: it would be better if they did so, when
they are so young and so blind; it would be easier for the spectator,
the auditor.

"They seed her--I might see her ef--ef I could see her once--ef--ef
I could see anything once." His voice faltered; but he stiffened it
instantly. "She might see me. She can't pass through this gate without
seeing me; and--and--ef she seed me--and I didn't even see her--oh,
I'm so tired of being blind!"