"Huh! Call that a 'Angel' do ye, Glory Beck? 'Tis no such thing. It's only somebody's baby what's got lost. Angels are folks what live in heaven, an' they never kick ner scratch ner ask to be carried. They don't need. All they have to do is to set still an' sing an' flap their wings. Huh! I know." Nancy spoke with the conviction of an eyewitness, and for a time her playmate was silenced. Then, as Bonny had now grown quiet and gave her an opportunity, Glory demanded: "How _can_ you know? You hain't never been there. Nobody hasn't. An' you go ask Meg-Laundress. Good-bye. Don't be mad. I'll be home bime-by, an' Bonny Angel with me. She's come to stay. She belongs, same's all of us. She's a reg'lar Elbower, 'now an' forevermore,' like we say in the ring-game; an' some time, maybe, if she wants, I'll let her 'Guardian' you somewhere. Now we're off to grandpa, but we'll be back after a while. Good-bye. Maybe Toni'll let you peddle goobers in my place the rest the day. Good-bye." Bonny Angel, as she was from that time to be called by her new friend, was again gurgling and smiling and gaily radiant; and for some distance Glory sped along, equally radiant and wholly engrossed in watching the little face so near her own. It was, indeed, perfect in its infantile beauty and more than one passer-by paused to take a second glance at this odd pair, so unlike, and yet so well content. After a short while, the aching of her arms made Glory realize that even infant "Angels" may become intolerably heavy, when clothed in healthy human form and carried indefinitely, so she set the little one down on its own small feet, though they seemed too dainty to rest upon the smirched stones of the pavement which just there was even more begrimed than that of the Lane itself. Then she saw that they had halted beside a coal-yard in an unfamiliar part of the city, but there were throngs of people hurrying past them toward some point beyond, and though many observed, none paused to address the children. Bonny was now rested and active and merrily started in the same direction, across the gangplank to the floor of a crowded ferry-boat. The ferry-men supposed them to belong to some older passengers and let them pass unchallenged; nor did Bonny Angel cease her resolute urging forward till they had come to the very edge of the further deck and stood looking down into the river. Almost at once, the boat began to move and Glory was as delighted as Bonny by the rush of the wind on her face and by the novel sights of the water. After all, this search for grandpa was proving the pleasantest of outings, for, though the goober-seller had often peddled her nuts at the landings of other ferries, she had never before crossed any. She gave the baby a fresh deluge of kisses, exclaiming, "Oh, you dear knowin' darlin'! He has gone this way an' you're leadin' me!" "Bonny come!" cried the "Angel," with a seraphic smile.