“Where is it?” asked she, a sudden cloud of anxiety veiling her young face,—for, with those of her age, not seeing is not believing. “Never mind!” said he, tapping his breast-pocket with a knowing air; and she hurried down the steps as best she could. He unbuttoned his coat and slowly inserted his hand into his breast-pocket. “Pull it out!” cried she. “I feel something!” said he, with mystery in his tones. “Yes!” answered she, skipping about with clasped hands. “What is it?” And there was a rattling, as of stiff paper, down in the depths of his pocket. “Candy!” cried she, with a shout, capering higher than ever. He withdrew the package from his pocket with a slowness which made her dance with impatience; opened one end, peeped into it cautiously, and gave her a beaming look of delighted surprise. “Let me look, too!” cried she; and he held it down. She, peeping in, returned his look of surprised delight. What would life be without its fictions! “It’s candy!” cried she; and seizing the package, and putting a piece into her mouth, she made for the steps. “Why, where are you going?” “I am going to show my candy to sister Lucy,” replied she, munching. “Won’t you give me a piece?” “Yes,” replied she, toddling back with alacrity. “Don’t take a big piece,” cautioned she, when she saw him examining the contents of the precious package. “Take a little piece.” The stranger smiled. “Laura,” said he, “there is a good deal of human nature in man; don’t you think so?” “Yeth, ma’am,” replied she, abstractedly; with one hand thrusting into her mouth a second piece, while with the other she reached down into the bag for a third. “You seem to like candy?” “Yeth, I doeth,” without looking up. “Come,” said he, taking the package and closing it; “if you eat it all, you won’t have any to show your sister Lucy; besides, it will make you sick.” “Candy don’t never make me sick. I can show sister Lucy the booful bag what the candy came in. Where is the speckled candy?” “Oh, the man didn’t have any.” “If he has any, another to-morrow, will you make him send me some?” “Oh, yes; but let’s talk a little.” “May I have another little piece?” “There! So you are the little girl who doesn’t know what her mother’s name is?” “Yes, I does; my mother’s name is named Laura. My mother is named the same as me. My name is Laura, too.” Our coaching had told. “So your mother’s name is Laura, is it?” And the stranger nodded his head slowly up and down. “And where is your mother now?” “She is at our house.” “And where is your house?” “Our house is where my mother is. There is a river where our house is. Don’t you like to sail in a boat on a river? I’m going to take another piece.” And with a roguish, though hesitating smile, she began to insert her dimpled hand into the bag. The stranger was looking upon the ground, and heeded neither the smile nor the movement against the bag. “Where do you go in your boat?”