A CHILD OF THE PEOPLE 97 



note of pleasant memory that grew reflected in his 

 face. For presently a voice said beseechingly 

 beneath his elbow : " Let me see too." And looking 

 down he was aware of the piteous figure of a hump- 

 backed child. " Let me see too," repeated the little 

 crooked thing, holding out its hands to help its 

 prayer. 



What a face it had ! Such a thin, wan face, 

 with a nameless expression that was not pain but 

 told of it. A history of pain — of pain that began 

 long, long ago, in father, in grandfather, in 

 generations back perhaps. Of hunger, of cruelty, 

 of — but it is a stale and well-worn story — you may 

 read it by the drinking-fountains any day, and I be 

 saved the telling. 



Its name, it said, was Pete. Not a pretty name, 

 but still, that was it — Pete. "Let me see too," 

 said little Pete. 



The curious person lifted little Pete, and raised 

 him to the fountain's rim. Pete, it seemed, 

 had expected to see something new and bright 

 and strange. And so at first he showed a little 

 disappointed, but only just at first. Then the 

 fancy of the child was caught by the limpid jet, 

 and it clapped its thin small hands and held 



G 



