Even
the pert sparrows were draggle-tailed and too much out of spirits to
fight for crumbs with the fat pigeons who tripped through the mud
with their little red boots as if in haste to get back to their cosy
home in the dove-cot.
But the most forlorn creature out that day was a small errand girl,
with a bonnet-box on each arm, and both hands struggling to hold a
big broken umbrella. A pair of worn-out boots let in the wet upon
her tired feet; a thin cotton dress and an old shawl poorly
protected her from the storm; and a faded hood covered her head.
The face that looked out from this hood was too pale and anxious for
one so young; and when a sudden gust turned the old umbrella inside
out with a crash, despair fell upon poor Lizzie, and she was so
miserable she could have sat down in the rain and cried.
But there was no time for tears; so, dragging the dilapidated
umbrella along, she spread her shawl over the bonnet-boxes and
hurried down the broad street, eager to hide her misfortunes from a
pretty young girl who stood at a window laughing at her.
She could not find the number of the house where one of the fine
hats was to be left; and after hunting all down one side of the
street, she crossed over, and came at last to the very house where
the pretty girl lived.
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