She's such a straight, slim child
in that long narrow apron. If it hadn't been for the baby, I would have
given her a penny."

They went on down the street. There were several fancy-goods stores and
some pretty black-eyed Jewish children with the curliest hair
imaginable. There was the big school across the way, and a great lock
factory, then a row of comparatively nice dwellings. They turned into
Avenue A., and were in a crowd of Germans. The children and babies all
had flaxen or yellow hair and roundish blue eyes. The mothers were
knitting and sewing and chattering in their queer language. Even the
little girls were knitting lace and stockings. The boys seemed fat and
pudgy. They stared at the chair and its inmate, but Sam went quietly
along. Here were German costumes sure enough.

They turned up Second Street, and so around First Avenue, home.

"Why, it's like going to foreign countries," Daisy said. "Some of the
children were very pretty. But that Biddy Brady--I can see her yet."

The very next day Daisy drew two pictures, and held them before Hanny.

"Why, that's Biddy Brady!" the little girl said, with a bright wondering
laugh. "And that's old Mrs. McGiven! They're splendid! How could you do
it?"

"I don't know. It came to me."

Mrs. Craven said the old lady was excellent. And she laughed about Biddy
Brady's dancing.

Sometimes they went up to Tompkins' Square. They would study their
lessons or do a bit of crocheting. Daisy was learning a great many
things. Or they went a little farther up and over to the river, which
was much wider at that time. The old farms had been cut up into blocks;
but while they were waiting for some one to come along and build them
up, the thrifty Germans had turned them into market gardens, and they
presented a very pretty appearance.

They could see the small clusters of houses on Long Island, and the end
of Blackwell's Island,--a terrible place to them. The boys had seen the
"Black Maria," which the little girl thought must be some formidable
giant negress capable of driving the criminals along as one would a
flock of sheep, and she was quite surprised when she learned it was a
wagon merely. The East River was quite pretty up here, and the
ferry-boats made a line of foam that sparkled in the sun.

Occasionally Doctor Joe joined the party, and took them in other
directions. He had accepted the offer of an old physician on East
Broadway, which was then considered very aristoc