Quicksilver | Page 2

the height
of his enjoyment he threw back his head, his ruddy lips parted, and two

rows of pearly teeth flashed in the bright sunshine.
As dirty a little grub as ever made mud-pies in a gutter; but the water,
the ferns, moss, and flowers around were to his little soul the most
delightful of toys, and he seemed supremely happy.
After a time he grew tired of splashing the water, and, drawing one
little foot into his lap, he pursed up his lips, an intent frown wrinkled
his shining forehead, and he began, in the most serio-comic manner, to
pick the row of tiny toes, passing a chubby finger between them to get
rid of the dust and grit.
All this while the breeze blew, the birch-tree waved, and the flowers
nodded, while from out of a clump of ling and rushes there came, at
regular intervals, a low roar like the growl of a wild beast.
After a few minutes there was the pad, pad--pad, pad of a horse's hoofs
on the dusty road; the rattle of wheels; and a green gig, drawn by a
sleepy-looking grey horse, and containing a fat man and a broad
woman, came into sight, approached slowly, and would have passed
had not the broad woman suddenly laid her hand upon the reins, and
checked the grey horse, when the two red-faced farming people opened
their mouths, and stared at the child.
"Sakes alive, Izick, look at that!" said the woman in a whisper, while
the little fellow went on picking his toes, and the grey horse turned his
tail into a live chowry to keep away the flies.
"Well, I am!" said the fat man, wrinkling his face all over as he
indulged in a silent laugh. "Why, moother, he's a perfeck picter."
"The pretty, pretty little fellow," said the woman in a genuine motherly
tone. "O Izick, how I should like to give him a good wash!"
"Wash! He's happy enough, bless him!" said the man. "Wonder whose
he be. Here, what are you going to do?"
"I'm going to give un a kiss, that's what I'm a-going to do," said the

woman getting very slowly out of the gig. "He must be a lost child."
"Well," grumbled the man, "we didn't come to market to find lost
children."
Then he sat forward, with his arms resting upon his knees, watching his
wife as she slowly approached the unconscious child, till she was in the
act of stooping over him to lay her fat red hand upon his golden curls,
when there was a loud roar as if from some savage beast, and the
woman jumped back scared; the horse leaped sidewise; the farmer
raised his whip; and the pair of simple-hearted country folks stared at
a fierce-looking face which rose out of the bed of ling, its owner having
been sleeping face downward, and now glowering at them above his
folded arms.
It was not a pleasant countenance, for it was foul without with dirt and
more foul within from disease, being covered with ruddy fiery blotch
and pimple, and the eyes were of that unnatural hue worn by one who
has for years been debased by drink.
"Yah!" roared the man, half-closing his bleared eyes. "Leave the bairn
alone."
"O Izick!" gasped the woman.
"Here, none o' that!" cried the farmer fiercely. "Don't you frighten my
wife."
"Let the bairn alone," growled the man again.
"How came you by him!" said the woman recovering herself. "I'm sure
he can't be your'n."
"Not mine!" growled the man in a hoarse, harsh voice. "You let the
bairn be. I'll soon show you about that. Hi! chick!"
The little fellow scrambled to him, and putting his tiny chubby arms
about the man's coarse neck, nestled his head upon his shoulder, and

turned to gaze at the farmer and his wife.
"Not my bairn!" growled the man; "what d'yer say to that?"
"Lor, Izick, only look," said the woman in a whisper. "My!"
"Well, what are yer starin' at?" growled the man defiantly; "didn't think
he were your bairn, did you!"
"Come away, missus," said the farmer; and the woman reluctantly
climbed back into the gig.
"It don't seem right, Izick, for him to have such a bairn as that," said
the woman, who could not keep her eyes off the child.
"Ah, well! it ar'n't no business of our'n. Go along!"
This was to the horse, who went off directly in a shambling trot, and the
gig rattled along the road; but as long as they remained in sight, the
farmer's wife stared back at the little fellow, and the rough-looking
tramp glared at her from among the heather and ling.
"Must be getting on--must be getting on," he growled to himself; and he
kept