"An' w'at will you have to-day, chile?"

"Some bananas, Maum Cinda--two for me, and two for my friend here,
Miss Bertha Levy."

"Oh! yes, Miss Bertha," replied the woman, courtesying, "an' maybe I
have seen Miss Bertha, but it's the sweet voice of Miss Lizzie that
the old blind woman remembers"--handing the bananas across the wide
board that protected her tempting wares from public incursions.

"You flatter me, Maum Cinda; but I hope the rainy day has not
interfered much with your trade. Here"--and extending her slender
white hand, Lizzie dropped the jingling pennies into the aged,
wrinkled one that opened to receive them.

"God bless you, chile. You neber forget His poor ones, de blind. God
bless you!"

"Good morning, Maum Cinda."

"Good-by, young ladies, good-by." And the last glimpse the two
receding friends had of the old woman, she was still profoundly
bowing and courtesying in acknowledgment of their remembrance.

Then the friends parted for the day, each one taking the most direct
course to her home, and soon both were safely sheltered from the
drizzling rain and chilling wind.