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Updated: June 5, 2025
"Vy, you've on'y got to go and marry the young lady, w'en, of course, all her property becomes yours, Punch included, don't you see?" "True, Slidder; it had not occurred to me in that light," said I, laughing heartily, as much at the cool and quiet insolence of the waif's manner as at his suggestion. "But then, you see, there are difficulties in the way.
What a damnable world it is!" Rising to his feet, he felt in his pocket for a coin, widened the pocket of the waif's jacket, and slipped it in. The boy stirred, tightened his grasp on his papers, and lay still. Felix looked down at him for a moment, turned, and with lightened steps continued his walk. "Well, thank God," he said as he neared "The Avenue," "Masie was happy one night in her life."
Now and then she paused in her work, to look down at the golden lashes sweeping the slumber-flushed cheeks, and pondering the mystery of the waif's future, she chanted in a rich contralto voice, the solemn "Reproaches" of Gounod's "Redemption." "Oh, my vineyard, come tell me why thy grapes are bitter? What have I done, my People? Wherein hast thou been wronged?"
Most wonderful of all, too, this man knew what it was to be hungry, and had even the insight and shrewdness to be aware that the waif's best chance of eating the scones at all was to eat them then and there. For the first time a feeling of reverence and admiration was kindled in the child's heart; he would have done a great deal for his unknown friend.
With a waif's quick instinct he guessed that Giovanni wanted something of him, but the generous instinct of the brave man towards the coward made him accept what seemed to be meant for an advance after a quarrel. It had never occurred to Zorzi to blame Giovanni for the accident in the glass-house, and it would have been very unjust to do so. "I can blow glass tolerably, sir," Zorzi answered.
But the great science of life is, and hath ever been, the recognition of life's real enemies. Angus was alone and fallen. The foundling's plague was upon him, and there was none to care for him but the faithful servant, smallpox-proof as he happily knew himself to be. The very night of the poor waif's hasty burial, a note was handed in at our kitchen door.
"Where will you take him?" asked Erica. Donovan stooped down to examine poor Waif's injuries. "I fear there is little to be done," he said. "But we might take him across to the chemist's opposite. Will you hold my whip for me?" She took it, and with infinite skill and tenderness Donovan lifted the fox terrier, while Erica hurried on in front to tell the chemist.
Tell her I love her. Tell her I can give her everything she wants in all the world. Tell her to come " And far more skillfully than ever Hilliard himself could have done, Dickie pleaded the intoxication of that sudden shower of gold, the bewildering change in the young waif's life, the necessity he was under to go and see and touch the miracle.
The thin face worked pathetically as the little fellow bravely tried to stifle the sobs which shook his feeble body; and Peace, with childish instinct, understood what the waif's queer, broken English failed to tell her. "Is Petri your father?" she asked. "No, no, no!" He shook his head vehemently to emphasize his words. "Then why are you afraid of him?"
As for color, if a once black cat had been well and thoroughly singed the result would have resembled the hue of this waif's thin, draggled, unsightly fur. Anne "shooed," but the cat would not "shoo." As long as she stood he sat back on his haunches and gazed at her reproachfully out of his one good eye; when she resumed her walk he followed.
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