Dotty Dimple Out West by Sophie [pseud.] May
page 26 of 116 (22%)
page 26 of 116 (22%)
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said so before. O, dear, what a homely baby! Little bits of eyes, like
huckleberries. 'Twill have to wear a head-dress when it grows up, for it hasn't any hair. I'm glad it isn't my brother, for then I should have to hold him the whole time, and he weighs more'n I do." Dotty sighed heavily. "That woman's gone to sleep. She'll dream it's night, and p'rhaps she won't wake up till we get to Boston. Hush-a-by, baby, your cradle is green! O, dear, my arms'll ache off." A boy approached with a basket of pop-corn and other refreshments. Dotty remembered that she had in her pocket the means to purchase very many such luxuries. But how was she to find the way to her pocket? Baby required both hands, and undivided attention. Dotty looked at the boy imploringly. He snapped his fingers at her little charge, and passed on. She looked around for her father. He was at the other end of the car, talking politics with a group of gentlemen. "Please stop," said she, faintly, and the boy came to her elbow again. "I want some of that pop-corn so much!" was the plaintive request. "I could buy it if you'd hold this baby till I put my hand in my pocket." The youth laughed, but, for the sake of "making a trade," set down his basket and took the "infant terrible." There was an instant attack upon his hair, which was so long and straggling as to prove an easy prey to the enemy. [Illustration: DOTTY IN THE CARS. Page 44.] |
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