,
for well he knew that of the stock he trusted to her, not a single
goober would be extracted for her personal enjoyment; and this was why
he oftener bestowed upon her a tiny bag of the dainties than upon any
other of his small sales people.

The captain finished his meal and did not distress his darling by
admitting that it was still distasteful, then rose, slung his basket of
frames over his shoulder, took Bo'sn's leading-string, and passed out to
his afternoon's peddling and singing. But, though he had kissed her
good-bye, Glory dashed after him, begging still another and another
caress, and feeling the greatest reluctance to letting him go, yet
equally unwilling to have him stay.

"If he stays here that man will come and maybe get him, whether or no;
an' if he goes, the shiny colonel may meet him outside and take him
anyhow. If only he'd sing alongside o' my peddlin' route! But he won't.
He never will. He hates to hear me holler. He says 'little maids
shouldn't do it'; only I have to, to buy my sewin' things with;
an'----My, I clean forgot Posy Jane's jacket! I must hurry an' finish
it, then off to peanuttin'," pondered the child, and watched the blind
man making his way, so surely and safely, around the corner into the
next street, with Bo'sn walking proudly ahead, what tail he had pointing
skyward and his one good ear pricked forward, intent and listening.

The old captain in the faded uniform he still wore, and the faithful
little terrier, who guided his sightless master through the dangers of
the city streets with almost a human intelligence were to Goober Glory
the two dearest objects in the world, and for them she would do anything
and everything.

"Funny how just them few words that shiny man said has changed our hull
feelin's 'bout the 'Harbor.' Only this mornin', 'fore he come, we was
a-plannin' how lovely 'twas; an' now--now I just hate it! I'm glad
they's water 'twixt us an' that old Staten Island, an' I'm glad we
haven't ferry money nor nothin'," cried the little girl, aloud, shaking
a small fist defiantly southward toward the land of her lost dreams.
Then, singing to make herself forget how hungry she was, she hurried
into the littlest house and--shall it be told?--caught up her grandpa's
plate and licked the crumbs from it, then inverted the tin cup and let
the few drops still left in it trickle slowly down her throat; and such
was Glory's dinner.

Afterward she took out needle and thread and he