Page:Arthur Stringer-The Loom of Destiny.djvu/201

The Heart's Desire She was the best one yet. Her dress was the whitest dress he had ever seen. Her hair was brown, and her eyes were grey—grey and soft and kind. It was no wonder he felt a new and strange feeling run through his puny little body. Then and there he tumbled head over heels in love, although he did not know it. She made his heart thump as only the band and the war pictures of the Siege of Paris and dreams of Santa Claus had hitherto done. He guessed she was the fairy that Bud Persons' Sunday-school teacher used to talk about. On further thoughts he decided she must be the Angel in the old "Harper's Magazine" that Mar'gut MacDougall would let him look through only on Sundays. Yes, that was it. She was the Angel.

The young man with the black coat pointed out the little freckled face with his walking stick. They both laughed.

"What an excruciatingly dirty little devil!" said the man.

The girl looked at the child for a moment, and then came over to him. 189