Victoria is now a woman, and she lives, as does Nannette, in the city of
Philadelphia. She has a little girl of her own, "mos' six" who is named
Nannette for the good little "sister-mother," who once upon a time
bought her mamma of a strange woman for a quarter of a dollar, as she
thought. And this other little Nannette never tires of hearing the
romantic story of the indolent "Didy" and the "real little live baby
that will _cry_."
BROTHERS FOR SALE.
Molly was six years old; a plump, roly-poly little girl with long,
crimpy golden hair and great blue eyes. She had ever so many brothers;
Fred, a year older than herself, and who went to the Kindergarten with
her, was her favorite. Molly was very fond of swinging on the front-yard
gate; a forbidden pleasure, by the way. This is the preface to my story
about Molly.
One windy, sunny day the little girl was "riding to Boston" on the front
gate; she had swung out and let the wind blow her back again a half
dozen times, and she was happy as a captain on the high seas, enjoying
the swaying, dizzy motion.
Every little girl--and many a boy--has swung on a gate, standing tip-toe
on the lower bar, leaning the chin on the upper bar; and as the gate
swayed outward, watched the brick pavement rush under foot like a swift
stream, all the time dreaming she was a steamboat.
[Illustration]
In some such position, with some such thoughts. I suppose, was our Molly
when a strange cry reached her ears.
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