I caught him down from the gate in my arms, and nearly smothered him
with kisses.

Then he put his bands up and felt my face over, so softly and tenderly,
that I fancied his little creeping fingers reading there every thought
in my heart; and finally, clasping his loving arms around my neck, he
said, in a voice hardly above a whisper,--

"I love you,--you love me?"

"I do indeed love you, you dear lamb," I said; but I could hardly speak,
my voice was so choked with tears. Perceiving this, he rested his little
hand softly on my cheek again, and whispered timidly,--

"Vy for you cry?"

But hearing some one approaching, and fearing to be disturbed, I took
his little hand in mine and led him away, across the park, to a seat
under the big mulberry, where I held him long and lovingly on my lap, as
I did often afterwards, while coaxing from his sweet lips the following
chapters of his strange little life.


II.

Little Jakey was indeed _little_ Jakey. I have often seen boys three
years old both taller and heavier; but never one more perfect in form
and feature. His little feet and hands might have belonged to a fairy.
His black eyes were bright and full, with long lashes and arched brows.