"THE FRECKLED DOG."
But just then a gentle-looking blind girl came along led by a dog. The
sight was so strange that Flyaway stopped to admire; for whatever else
she might be afraid of, she always loved and trusted a dog.
"Doggie, doggie," cried she, patting the little animal's head.
"O, _what_ a sweet voice," said the blind girl, putting out her hand and
groping till she touched Fly's shoulder. "I never heard such a voice!"
This was what strangers often said, and Flyaway never doubted the
sweetness was caused by eating so much candy; but just now she had had
none for two days.
"What makes you shut your eyes up, right in the street, girl? Is the
_seeingness_ all gone out of 'em?"
"Yes, you darling. I haven't had any seeingness in my eyes for a year."
"You didn't? Then you's _blind-eyed_," returned Flyaway, with perfect
coolness.
"And don't you feel sorry for me--not a bit?"
"No, 'cause your dog is freckled so pretty."
"But I can't see his freckles."
"Well, he's got 'em. Little yellow ones, spattered out all over him."
"But if I had eyes like you, I shouldn't need any dog. I could go about
the streets alone."
"Well, I don't like to go 'bout the streets alone; I want my own
brother Hollis."
"I hope you haven't got lost, little dear?"
"No," laughed Fly, gayly; "I didn't get lost! But I don't know where
nobody is! And there don't nobody know where _I_ am!"
The blind girl took Fly's little hand tenderly in hers.
"Come, turn down this street with me, and tell me all about it."
Fly trudged along, prattling merrily, for about a minute: then she drew
away. "'Tisn't a nice place; I don't want to go there."
A look of pain crossed the blind girl's face.
"No, I dare say you don't. It isn't much of a place for folks with silk
bonnets on."
"You can't see my bonnet; you can't see anything, you're blind-eyed;
but," said Fly, glancing sharply around, "it isn't pretty here, at all;
and there's a dead cat right in the street."
"Yes, I think likely."
"And there's a boy. I spect he frowed the cat out the window; he hasn't
nuffin on but dirty cloe's."
"Do you see some steps?" said the blind girl, putting her hand out
cautiously. "Don't fall down."
"I shan't fall down; I'm going home."
"O, don't child; you must come with me. My mother will take care of
you."
"I don't want nobody's mother to take 'are o' me; I've got a mamma
myself!"
"How little you know!" said the blind girl, thinking aloud; "how lucky
it is I found you! and O, dear, how I wish I could see! You'll slip
away in spite of me."
But Flyaway allowed herself to be drawn along, step by step, partly
because she liked the "freckled dog," and partly because she had not
ceased being amused by the droll sight of a person walking with closed
eyes.
"What's the name of you, girl?"
"Maria."
"Maria? So was my mamma; her name was Maria, when she was a little girl.
O, look, there's another boy; don't you see him? Up high, in that house.
Got a big box with a string to it."
A very rough-looking boy was standing at a third-story window, lowering
a bandbox by a clothes-line. As Fly watched the box slowly coming down,
the boy called out,--
"Get in, little un, and I'll give you a free ride."
"O, no--O, no; I don't _dass_ to."
"Yes, yes; go in, lemons," said the boy, choking with laughter, as he
saw the child's horror. "If you don't do it, by cracky, I'll come down
and fetch you."
At this, Fly was frightened nearly out of her senses, and ran so fast
that the dog could scarcely have kept up with her, even if he had not
had a blind mistress pulling him back.
"O, where are you?" exclaimed Maria. "Don't run away from me,--don't!"
"He's a-gon to kill me in two," cried Flyaway, stopping for breath.'
"he's a-gon to kill me in two-oo!"
"No, he isn't, dear! It's only Izzy Paul He couldn't catch you, if he
tried. He's lame, and goes on crutches."
"But he said a swear word,--yes he, did," sobbed the child, never
doubting that a boy who could swear was capable of murder, though he had
neither hands nor feet.
"Stop, now," said Maria, clutching Fly as if she had been a spinning
top. "This is my house. Mother, mother, here's a little girl; catch
her--hold her--keep her!"
"Me? What should I catch a little girl for?" said Mrs. Brooks, a faded
woman with a tired face, and a nose that moved up and down when she
talked. She had been standing at the door of their tumbledown tenement,
looking for her daughter, and was surprised to see her bringing a
strange child with her. It was not often that well-dressed people
wandered into that dirty alley.
"The poor little thing has got lost, mother. Perhaps _you_ can find out
where she came from. I didn't ask her any questions; it was as much as I
could do to keep up with her."
Maria put her hand on her side. Fast walking always tired her, for she
was afraid every moment of falling.
They had to go down a flight of stairs to get into the house; and after
they got there Fly looked around in dismay.
"I don't want to stay in the stable," she murmured. Indeed it was not
half as nice as the place where her father kept his horse.
"But this is where we have to live," sighed Maria.
"Have things to eat?" asked the little stranger, in a solemn whisper.
There were a few chairs with broken backs, a few shelves with clean
dishes, a few children with hungry faces. In one corner was a clumsy
bedstead, and in a tidy bed lay a pale man.
"Who've you got there, Maria?" said he. "Bring her along, and stick her
up on the bed."
"Don't be afraid," said Mrs. Brooks; "it's only pa; wouldn't the little
girl like to talk to him? He's sick."
Flyaway was not at all afraid, for the man smiled pleasantly, and did
not look as if he would hurt anybody. Mrs. Brooks set her on the bed,
and Maria, afraid of losing her, held her by one foot. The children all
crowded around to see the little lady in a silk bonnet holding a
button-hole bouquet to her bosom.
"Ain't she a ducky dilver!" said the oldest boy. "Pa'll be pleased, for
he don't see things much. Has to keep abed all the time."
Mr. Brooks tried to smile, and Flyaway whispered to Maria, with sudden
pity,--
"Sorry he's sick. Has he got to stay sick? Can't you find the camphor
bottle?"
"O, father, she thinks if ycu had some camphor to smell of, 'twould cure
you."
Then they all laughed, and Fly timidly offered the sick man her flowers.
"What, that pretty posy for me? Bless you, baby, they'll do me a sight
more good than camfire!"
"There," said Maria, joyfully, "now pa is pleased; I know by the sound
of his voice. Poor pa! only think, little girl, a stick of timber fell
on him, and lamed him for life!"
"Yes," said Bennie, "the lower part of him is as limber as a rag."
"She don't sense a word you say," remarked Mrs. Brooks, shaking up a
pillow, "See what we can get out of her. What's your name, dear?"
"Katie Clifford."
"Where do you live?"
"I _have_ been borned in Nindiana."
Fly spoke with some pride. She considered her birth an honor to the
state.
"But where did you come from, Katie? That's what we mean."
"I camed from heaven," said the child, with one of her wise looks.
"Beats all, don't she?" cried Mr. Brooks, admiringly. "Looks like an
angel, I declare for't. Did you just drop down out of the sky?"
"No, sir," answered Flyaway, folding her little hands as if she were
saying her prayers; "I camed down when I was a baby."
[Illustration: "I CAMED DOWN WHEN I WAS A BABY."]
"That's what makes your hair so _goldy_," said Bennie. "Mother, did you
ever see such eyes? Say, did you ever? So soft, and kinder shiny, too."
"Children, don't stare at her; it makes her uneasy."
"_I_ can't stare at her," said Maria, bitterly. "I suppose you don't
mean me, mother."
Mrs. Brooks only answered her poor daughter by a kiss.
"Well, little Katie, after you were born in _Nindiana_, you came to New
York. When did you come?"
"One of these other days I camed here with Hollis."
"Who's Hollis?"
"He's my own brother. Got a new cap. Had his hair cut."
"Who did you come to New York to see?" "My auntie."
"Her auntie! A great deal of satisfaction we are likely to get out of
this child," said Mr. Brooks, laughing. He had not laughed before for a
week.
"What's your auntie's name?"
"Aunt Madge."
"Is she married?"
"O, yes; and so's Uncle 'Gustus. Married together, and live together,
just the same."
"Uncle 'Gustus who? Now we'll come at it!"
"Alling," replied Fly, her quick eyes roving about the room, for she was
tired of these questions.
"Allen, Augustus Allen!" said Mr. Brooks, in surprise; "I wonder if
there can be two of them. Tell me, child, how does he look?"
"Don't look like you," replied Fly, after a keen survey of Mr. Brooks.
"Your face is pulled away down long, like that;" (stretching her hand
out straight) "Uncle 'Gustus's face is squeezed up short" (doubling her
hand into a ball)
"I'll warrant it is the colonel himself," said Mrs. Brooks, smiling at
the description.
"Yes, that's the name of him; the 'kernil's' the name of him."
"Is it possible!" said Mr. Brooks, looking very much pleased.
"Uncle 'Gustus has curly hair on his cheeks, on his mouf, all round.
_Not_ little prickles, sticking out like needles."
"O, you girl!" said Bennie, frowning at Fly. "You mustn't laugh at my
pa's beard. There's a man comes in, sometimes, and shaves him nice; but
now the man's gone to Newark."
"Is it possible," repeated Mrs. Brooks, taking the child's hand, "that
this is Colonel Allen's little niece, and my Maria found her!"
"Your Maria didn't find me," said Fly, decidedly; "I founded Maria."
"So she did, pa. The first thing I knew, I heard somebody calling,
Doggie, doggie,' in such a sweet voice; and then I looked--no, of course
I _couldn't_ look."
Here the discouraged look came over Maria's mouth, and she said no more.
"There, there, cheer up, daughter," said Mr. Brooks, with tears in his
eyes; "I was only going on to say, it is passing strange that any of our
family should run afoul of one of the colonel's folks."
"It's the Lord's doings; I haven't the slightest doubt of it," said Mrs.
Brooks, earnestly. "You know what I've been saying to you, pa."
"There, there, ma'am, _don't_," said Mr. Brooks; "don't go to raising
false hopes. You know I'm too proud to beg of anybody's folks."
"Why, pa, I shouldn't call it begging just to tell Colonel Allen how you
are situated! Do you suppose, if he knew the facts of the case, he'd be
willing to let you suffer? Such a faithful man as you used to be to
work."
"No, I think it's likely he wouldn't. He's got more heart than some rich
folks; but I hain't no sort of claim on the colonel, if I did help build
his house. And then, ma'am, you know I've been kind o' hopin'--"
"Guess I'll go now, and find Hollis," said Fly, slipping down from the
bed, for the talk did not interest her.
"O, but I want to go with you, Katie," said Mrs. Brooks, coaxingly.
"Bennie, you amuse her, while I change my dress."