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He doesn't know who he is or where he comes from," explained Van Cheele desperately, glancing apprehensively at the waif's face to see whether he was going to add inconvenient candour to his other savage propensities. Miss Van Cheele was enormously interested. "Perhaps his underlinen is marked," she suggested.
One would almost have thought she had been told beforehand what was to happen, so cool and collected was she. "Now, Baubie, I am going to take you home. Come, child." Pleased with her success, Miss Mackenzie, so speaking, took the little waif's hand and led her out of the police-court into the High street.
I sat alone in my rude little office, conning over again for the hundredth time strange chapters of a waif's experience, reproducing auld-lang-syne, with all its thronged streets and lonely forest-paths, its old familiar faces, talks, and songs, ingathering there, in the name of Love or Friendship, forms that were dim and voices that were echoes; and many an "alas," and "too late," and "it might have been," they brought along with them.
Then she dropped down into a thicket and secured a green worm, with which she flew up to the chirping waif's perch; but I could not make out that she fed the birdling, though she thrust the worm toward its open mouth. Soon after she had gone off the second time, the little bird clambered around the corner of the wall to the lower side of the house, where it rested a while on a narrow shelf.
I find though that another dog rather hurts Waif's feelings, so you will be doing a kindness to him as well if you will accept 'Tottie." "Oh, how delightful of you! It was kind of you to think of it," said Erica. "I have always so longed to have a dog of my own. And this is such a little beauty! Is it not a very rare breed?"
The cyclone of laughter which greeted this naive discharge of wisdom did not modify the poor little waif's embarrassment in any large degree. From a letter to Mrs. Stillman, dated merely "Tuesday." Fetlock Jones was put under lock and key in an unoccupied log cabin, and left there to await his trial.
Gradually some sort of a human rotundity became manifest, and on the occasion of the bath it was more and more apparent that instead of being impenetrably black the skin-tint was a mingling of pale brown and pink; and as regular nourishment began to be effective the features changed, losing their gross animalism. Just because of the waif's helplessness was repugnance to her conquered.
Tiptoeing across the floor to the Italian waif's chair, she clutched him by the hand, dragged him to his feet, and signalling him to be quiet, she stole cautiously from the room with him in tow.
Yet they wished it for very different reasons: Philip Holt wanted money to save himself from disgrace; Madge desired it to help her uncle and aunt save their old home, "Forest House," to send Eleanor back to graduate at Miss Tolliver's in the fall, to start on her search for her father, and, last of all, to take care of Tania. For Madge had managed the little waif's affairs most undiplomatically.
Lawless, rough, often cruel, and sometimes vindictive as Cully was to others, a word from Patsy humbled and softened him. And Patsy loved Cully. His big, broad chest, stout, straight legs, strong arms and hands, were his admiration and constant pride. Cully was his champion and his ideal. The waif's recklessness and audacity were to him only evidences of so much brains and energy.
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