Читать книгу The Haven Children; or, Frolics at the Funny Old House on Funny Street онлайн

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A cheery-looking old colored woman, with a brightly-turbaned head, appears at the door, whilst a younger one peeps over her shoulder. Papa calls out in a proud, glad tone—

“Here, Celia and Nan, come get these poor, stray, hungry little creatures. I found them at the station and took pity on them. I make them over to you and wish you joy in your bargain—

“So give them a supper of water and bread,

Then whip them all soundly and send them to bed.”

Papa’s jokes were always well received and the little folk forgot the strangeness, as they were unpacked by him and Hugh, to be handed over to Celia and Nan’s tender care. Little Jack seemed to grow an inch taller at hearing Celia cry out—

“Now then, Mister John, this child be’s your werry own self. Them feeters is just your own. Bless the creeter. He’s my mans.”

Papa looked at Jack’s saucy little pug nose, and felt his own Grecian feature, evidently very much struck with the great resemblance, then passed on, with Bear in his arms, to the library door, where good Aunt Emma was hugging and being hugged by the other three.