Then advanced a rough young English nurse out of a farm-house with a
child that could just toddle. She had left an enormous doll with Hope for
repairs, and the child had given her no peace for the last week. Luckily
the doll was repaired, and handed over. The mite, in whose little bosom
maternal feelings had been excited, insisted on carrying her child. The
consequence was that at about the third step they rolled over one
another, and to spectators at a little distance it was hard to say which
was the parent and which the offspring. Them the strapping lass in charge
seized roughly, and at the risk of dislocating their little limbs, tossed
into the air and caught, one on each of her own robust arms, and carried
them off stupidly irritated--for want of a grain of humor--at the
good-natured laugh this caused, and looking as if she would like to knock
their little heads together.
Under cover of this an old man in a broad hat, and seemingly infirm,
crept slowly by and looked keenly at Hope, but made no application.
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