The porter agreed. "'Tis a nice purse for a little girl," he said
quite seriously; "there's heaps of wear in it yet, by the look of
it."

Thomas Dawson stood by, his face all alight with smiles and interest.
"What a clever little maid 'tis," he thought, "and what a happy
little soul to be so ready to talk like that right away."

"Now, my dear, are 'ee ready? We must hurry on, or granny'll think
you ain't come, and she will be wondering what's become of me.
Shall I carry you again?"

"No, thank you, I'd like to walk, but I'd like you to hold my hand.
Mother always does; she's afraid I'll get lost with so many people
about."

"Well, you won't be troubled with too many people hereabouts," said
her grandfather, laughing, but he was only too glad to clasp the
little hand thrust into his, and they walked on very happily together
talking quite as though they were old friends.

"We are nearly home now, 'tisn't so very much further. Are 'ee
tired, dear?"

"No--o, not so very," she answered, but in rather a weary voice.
"Are you too tired to carry me?"

Her grandfather laughed, but before he could reply, or pick her up,
she drew back a little. "Is my face clean?" she asked anxiously.
"I must have a clean face when I see granny. Mother told me granny