so tiny, and she
was so eager to show her new possession, that the clogs were as much
noticed as though never before seen. When she stopped in front of some
acquaintance, lifted her frock with both hands, and gazed seriously
first at her own feet and then up in her friend's face, it was only
possible to exclaim in surprise and admiration:

"Eh! To be sure. What pretty, pretty clogs baby's gotten!"

It was the middle of summer. Baby was just two years old and a month,
and the clogs were still glossy and new, when one morning Maggie took
the child with her down to Keighley as usual. It was stiflingly hot
there, after the cool breeze which blew off the moor on the hillside;
the air was thick with smoke and dust, and, as Maggie turned into the
alley where she was to leave her child, she felt how close and stuffy it
was.

"'Tain't good for her here," she thought, with a sigh. "I reckon I must
mak' up my mind to leave her up yonder this hot weather."

But the baby did not seem to mind it. Maggie left her settled in the
open doorway talking cheerfully to one of her little clogs which she had
pulled off. This she filled with sand and emptied, over and over again,
chuckling with satisfaction as a stray sunbeam touched the brass clasps
and turned them into gold. In the distance she could hear the noise of
the town, and presently amongst them there came a new sound--the beating
of a drum. Baby liked music. She threw down the clog, lifted one
finger, and said "Pitty!" turning her head to look into the room. But
no one was there, for the woman of the house had gone into the back
kitchen. The noise continued, and seemed to draw baby towards it: she
got up on her feet, and staggered a little way down the alley, tottering
a good deal, for one foot had the stout little clog on it, and the other
nothing but a crumpled red sock. By degrees, however, after more than
one tumble, she got down to the end of the alley, and stood facing the
bustling street.

It was such a big, noisy world, with such a lot of people and horses and
carts in it, that she was frightened now, put out her arms, and screwed
up her face piteously, and cried, "Mammy, mammy!"

Just then a woman passed with a tambourine in her hand and a bright
coloured handkerchief over her head. She shook the tambourine and
smiled kindly at baby, showing very white teeth.

"Mammy, mammy!" said baby again, and began to sob.

"Don't cry, then, deary, and I'll take