"Look, papa! Look, Mrs. Estel!" exclaimed the younger of the two. "Oh,
isn't he a perfect picture! I never saw such eyes, or such delicate
coloring. It is an ideal head."

"Here, Grace," exclaimed her father, laughingly. "Don't forget your
berries in your enthusiasm. It hasn't been many seconds since you were
going into raptures over them. They certainly are the finest I ever
saw."

The girl took several boxes from her basket, and held them up for the
ladies to choose. Grace took one mechanically, her eyes still fixed on
the child in the window.

"I'm going to make friends with him!" she exclaimed impulsively.
"Let's walk down that way. I want to speak to him."

"Blackberries!" sang the child again, merrily echoing the cry that
came from the depths of the big sunbonnet as it passed on.

Grace picked out the largest, juiciest berry in the box, and held it
up to him with a smile. His face dimpled mischievously, as he leaned
forward and took it between his little white teeth.

"Do you want some more?" she asked.

His eyes shone, and every little curl bobbed an eager assent.

"What's your name, dear," she ventured, as she popped another one into
his mouth.