trouble; but I can get along very well now, with only the umbrelly to
carry."

"No trouble at all," said he. "Look, then,--follow me; I'll pick out
the best places for you to walk in,--the snow is drifting so!"

He trudged on ahead, glancing back occasionally to see if the basket
and camp-seat were safe, or to direct her steps,--as if all this were
the most natural thing in the world for him to do, as in truth it was;
for, though he thought it a great joke that she should call him "sir,"
will not any one admit that he deserved the title which belongs to a
gentleman? He and Widow Barry had been good friends for some time.

"Sure, an' didn't he buy out me whole supply one day this last
January?" she would say. "His birthday it was, and the dear creature
was eleven years old. He spent the big silver dollar his grandfather
gave him like a prince, a treatin' all the b'ys of the neighborhood to
apples an' peanuts, an' sendin' me home to take me comfort."

Tom, moreover, was a regular patron of "the stand." He always declared
that "she knew what suited him to a T." During the selection he was
accustomed to discuss with her many weighty questions, especially Irish
politics, in which they both took a deep if not very well-informed
interest.

"Guess I'll have that dark-red one over there. Don't you think Mr.
Gladstone is the greatest statesman of the age, Missis Barry?--what?
That other one is bigger? Well!--and your father knew Daniel O'Connell
you say?--ah, I tell you that's a fine fellow!"