"
"Oh, Arch!" cried the girl, sinking down beside him on the desolate
hearth, "it's a hard world to live in! I wonder, if, when folks be dead,
they have to sweep crossings, and be kicked and cuffed round by old
grandmas when they don't get no pennies? If they don't then I wish I
was dead, too, Arch!"
"I suppose it's wicked, Mat. _She_ used to say so. She told me never to
get tired of waiting for God's own time--her very words, Mat. Well, now
her time has come, and I am all alone--all alone! Oh, mother--mother!" He
threw himself down before the dead woman, and his form shook with
emotion, but not a tear came to his eyes. Only that hard, stony look
of hopeless despair. Mat crept up to him and took his head in her lap,
smoothing softly the matted chestnut hair.
"Don't take on so, Arch! don't!" she cried the tears running down over
her sunburnt face. "I'll be a mother to ye, Arch! I will indeed! I know
I'm a little brat, but I love you, Arch, and some time, when we get
bigger, I'll marry you, Arch, and we'll live in the country, where
there's birds and flowers, and it's just like the Park all round. Don't
feel so--don't!"
Arch pressed the dirty little hands that fluttered about him--for, next
to his mother, he loved Mat.
"I will go out now and call somebody," she said; "there Mrs.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25