balancing her spoon on the edge of her cup.

"On the Long Sands after the great storm," said Mrs. Kane; "and that's
just four years ago in May gone by. How a baby ever lived through the
storm to be washed in by the sea alive always beats me when I think of
it, it seems so downright unnatural; and yet that's the way that
Providence ordered it, Mrs. Ford."

"I suppose all her folks were drowned?" said Mrs. Ford.

"Most like they were, for it was a bad wreck, as I've heard," said Mrs.
Kane. "Leastways, nobody has ever come to claim her, and no questions
have been asked. Unless it was much for her good I would fain hope that
nobody ever will claim her now. Wild as she is, I've grown to love that
little Hetty, so I have. Ah, here she is coming along, as hungry as a
little pussy for her milk, I'll be bound!"

Hetty came trudging along the garden path, her curls standing up in a
bush on her head, her little fat fingers stained green with grass, and
her pinafore, no longer green, filled with moon-daisies. She was singing
with her baby voice lifted bravely:

"Dust as I am I come to zee--"

"Dust indeed!" cried Mrs. Kane, "_I_ never saw
such dust. Only look at her shoes that I blacked this morning!"

"Poor dear, practising her singing," said Mrs. Ford. "Well, little lass,
and what have you been seeing and doing all day long?"