No one appeared to have time to help
her.
Presently, however, she heard a firm, light step behind her. The next
moment a pair of merry brown eyes peered under the umbrella; a face as
round and ruddy as one of her best Baldwins beamed upon her with the
smile of old friendship, and a gay, youthful voice cried out:
"Good afternoon, Missis Barry! It's hard work getting on to-day, isn't
it?"
A singularly gentle expression lighted up the apple-woman's
weather-beaten features as she recognized the little fellow in the
handsome overcoat, who was evidently returning from an errand, as he
carried a milk can in one hand while drawing a sled with the other.
"Indade an' it is, Masther Tom!" she replied, pausing a second.
"Let us see if we can't manage differently," he went on, taking her
burden and setting it upon the sled. "There, that is better. Now give
me your hand."
She had watched him mechanically; but, thus recalled to herself, she
answered hastily:
"Oh, thank ye kindly, sir! It's too much for ye to be takin' this
trouble; but I can get along very well now, with only the umbrelly to
carry.
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