All alone, mamma's baby,
who had never been alone before in all her short cherished life. All
alone with the croaking frogs and lonesome crickets. Hark! what was
that? A roll of wheels and the clatter of a horse's hoofs.
"Whoa!" called out a boy's shrill voice. Down to the ground dropped the
owner of the voice. "What is the matter, little girl?"
"I'se been to Soogar Wiver, and I don't know how to det home aden, I'se
so vewy tired, and I toodn't cwack the candy, and I want to see
dwandma," and Tot's words ended in a wail of inarticulate woe.
"Where do you live?" asked the boy.
"A dwate, dwate ways off," answered Tot.
"What is your name?"
"Tot Lindsay."
"Lindsay? O, I know! All you've got to do is to jump into this wagon and
have a nice ride, and, presently, we'll be there."
And presently, in the gloaming, they stopped before grandpapa's house,
and the boy, lifting out Tot in his arms, carried her to the door and
bade her good-by, and, jumping into his wagon, rattled away. Empty and
silent stood the little house, like the dwelling of the Three Talking
Bears, and little Tot might have been Silver Hair herself.
"Dwandma, dwandma!" she called. But no grandmamma replied.
"Perhaps she has dus dorn out a minute," thought she. "I'll det up on
dis lounge and tover dis shawl over me, and s'prise her when she tums
back."
Something else besides the shawl covered Tot's eyes. Down over the blue
orbs drifted the snowy lids.
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