sailor's daughter, entertained the party and had a word for all. She was
not young, and not well-favored, and unduly plump, but a sweet-hearted
woman nevertheless, with a great love for the little children. This indeed
presently appeared, for while the party waited there happened a tragedy in
the street which brought extreme sorrow to a pair of very small people.
They had a big crabshell full of dirt off the road which they drew after
them by a string, and in which they took no small pride and pleasure; but a
young sailor, coming hastily round a corner, trampled upon the shell,
smashed it, and passed laughing on. The infants, overwhelmed by this sudden
disaster to their most cherished earthly possession, crushed to the earth
by this blotting out of the sunshine of the day, lifted up their voices and
wept before the shattered ruins. One, the biggest, dropped the useless
string and put his face against the wall, that his extreme grief might be
hidden; but the smaller hesitated not to make his sorrows widely known. He
bawled, then took a deep breath and bawled again. As the full extent of his
loss was borne in upon him, he absolutely danced with access of frenzied
grief; and everybody laughed but fat Sally Trevennick. Her black eyes grew
clouded, and she went down into the road to bring comfort to the sufferers.

"Never mind, then; never mind, you bwoys; us'll get 'e another braave
shell, so us will. Theer, theer, give over an' come 'long wi' me an' see
the flags. Theer's many bigger auld crabshells wheer that comed from, I
lay. Your faither'll get 'e another."

She took a hand of each babe and brought them into the garden, from which
they could look down upon their fellows. Such exaltation naturally soothed
their sufferings, and amid many gasps and gurgles they found a return to
peace in the close contemplation of Mr. Trevennick's flagstaff and the
discussion of a big saffron pasty.