This was in fact the first time she had
had to carry the baby, and it fatigued her dreadfully. Till now Mrs
Bruce had had the assistance of a ragged child, whose father owed them
money for groceries: he could not pay it, and they had taken his
daughter instead. Long ago, however, she had slaved it out, and had at
length gone back to school. The sun was hot, the baby was heavy, and
Annie felt all arms and back--they were aching so with the unaccustomed
drudgery. She was all but crying when Curly darted to the gate, his
face glowing with his run, and his eyes sparkling with excitement.
"Come, Annie," cried he; "we're gaein' to lainch the boat."
"I canna, Curly; I hae the bairn to min'."
"Tak the bairn in til 'ts mither."
"I daurna."
"Lay't doon o' the table, an' rin."
"Na, na, Curly; I cudna do that. Puir little crater!"
"Is the beastie heavy?" asked Curly, with deceitful interest.
"Dreadfu'."
"Lat's try."
"Ye'll lat her fa'."
"Deed no. I'm no sae fusionless (pithless). Gie's a haud o' her."
Annie yielded her charge; but no sooner had Curly possession of the
baby, than he bounded away with her out of the garden into the back
yard adjoining the house.
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