Standing upon the top step was an exceedingly dilapidated and disreputable little negro girl with an exceedingly dirty and broken basket on her arm. This basket was intended to contain such scraps of food as she might beg for. She was grinning a little, and at the same time looking a little anxious, as the baby came toddling to her, the sun on his short curls, the loaf under his short arm. [Illustration: HIS INITIAL ACT OF CHARITY: “LADY,” HE SAID, “LADY, F’ONT DOOR—WANT B’EAD”] He dropped the loaf into her basket with sweet friendliness. “B’ead, lady,” he said. And as she scurried away he turned to smile at his approaching mamma with the confidence of a two-year-old angel. “Lady, b’ead,” he remarked succinctly, and the situation was explained. The dirty little colored girl was a human thing in petticoats, consequently she was a lady. His tender mind saw no other conclusion to be arrived at. She had expressed a desire for bread. On his mamma’s breakfast table there was a beautiful long loaf. Of course it must be given to her. The question of demand and supply was so easily settled; so he trotted after the bread. The mere circumstances of short legs and short arms did not deter a spirit like his. And it was this simple and unquestioning point of view which made him adorable. CHAPTER II IN WHITE FROCK AND SASH In the drawing-room, in full war-paint of white frock and big sash, he was the spirit of innocent and friendly hospitality, in the nursery he was a brilliant entertainment, below stairs he was the admiration and delight of the domestics. The sweet temper which prompted him to endeavor to sustain agreeable conversation with the guest who admired him led him, also, to enter into friendly converse with the casual market-man at the back door, and to entertain with lively anecdote and sparkling repartee the extremely stout colored cook in the kitchen. He endeavored to assist her in the performance of her more arduous culinary duties, and by his sympathy and interest sustained her in many trying moments. When he was visiting her department chuckles and giggles might be heard issuing from the kitchen when the door was opened. Those who heard them always knew that they were excited by the moral or social observations or affectionate advice and solace of the young but distinguished guest. “Me an’ Carrie made that pudding,” he would kindly explain, at dinner. “It’s a very good pudding. Carrie’s such a nice cook. She lets me help her.” And his dimples would express such felicity, and his eyes beam from under his tumbling love-locks with such pleasure, at his confidence in the inevitable rapture of his parents at the announcement of his active usefulness, that no one possessed sufficient strength of mind to correct the grammatical structure of his remarks.