"You a betther aim!" scornfully retorted he; "thry id:" and his hand
was upraised in the act of pelting, but was as suddenly stopped and
withheld, as a pretty, tiny, fair-haired child, tripped forward from an
opposite stile; and perceiving what was going on, ran quickly to the old
woman, and laying down a pitcher that she bore, stood before her, facing
the crowd of boys, her mild, soft blue eye flashing displeasure, and her
cheeks flushed with a deep pink suffusion.

[Illustration: PAGE 124-- "Shame! oh, for shame!" were the first
exclamations]

"Shame! oh, for shame!" were the first exclamations that escaped her,
and her sweet voice trembled with anger.

"Bedad, it's purty Minny herself, sure enough!" muttered one urchin
to another, as they hesitated what to do, each evidently unwilling to
encounter the reproaches they were sure of receiving; and one or two
scampered off the instant she spoke.

Then turning round to the old woman, and perceiving that her lips looked
dry and parched, she ran to the pitcher, and lifting it to her mouth
with much softness and compassion, exclaimed,

"Poor Nanny, you look dhry, an' here's some wather. Take a little sup,
an' it 'ill revive you! Oh; if I wor here a little bit sooner."

Nanny raised her eyes to thank her, and did as she requested; and it was
indeed a touching thing to see that child in all the budding beauty of
infancy, attending so anxiously on the withered female, whose name was