By the time he returned to the blacksmith-shop the horses were gone to the stable, and all the preacher’s family and all their bundles were out of the carriage.  What plump-legged, healthy, inquisitive youngsters those three small girls appeared as they stood there in the snow.

“All right!” said Field, as he came to the group, where everybody seemed already acquainted and friendly.  “Fixed up royal, and ye’re all expected right away.”

“We couldn’t leave the little gals to walk,” said the blacksmith.  “I’ll carry this one myself,” and, taking the largest of the children in his big, bare arms, he swung her up with a certain gesture of yearning not wholly under control.

“And I’ll—­”

“And I’ll—­” came quickly from the group, while six or eight big fellows suddenly jostled each other in their haste to carry a youngster.  There being but two remaining, however, only two of the men got prizes, and Field felt particularly injured because he had earned such an honor, he felt, by running up to Doc’s to make arrangements.  He and several others were obliged to be contented with the bundles, not a few of which were threatened with destruction in the eagerness of all to be of use.

But presently everything was adjusted, and, deserting the carriage, the shop, and everything else, the whole assemblage moved in procession on the home of the Dennihans.

A few minutes later little Skeezucks, Jim, and the pup—­all of them looking from the window of the house—­saw those three small caps of red, and felt that New-Year’s day had really come at last.

CHAPTER XVII

SKEEZUCKS GETS A NAME

When the three small girls, so rosy of cheek and so sparkling of eye, confronted the grave little pilgrim he could only gaze upon them with timid yearning as he clung to his doll and to old “Bruvver Jim.”  There never had been in all his life a vision so beautiful.  Old Jim himself was affected almost as much as the quaint, wee man so quietly standing at his side.  Even Tintoretto was experiencing ecstasies heretofore unknown in his youthful career.

Indeed, no one could have determined by any known system of calculation whether Jim or tiny Skeezucks or the pup most enjoyed the coming of the preacher and his family.  Old Jim had certainly never before undergone emotions so deeply stirring.  Tintoretto had never before beheld four youngsters affording such a wealth of opportunity for puppy-wise manoeuvres; indeed, he had never before seen but one little playfellow since his advent in the world.  He was fairly crazed with optimism.  As for Skeezucks—­starving for even so much as the sight of children, hungering beyond expression for the sound of youngster voices, for the laughter and over-bubblings of the little folk with whom by rights he belonged—­nothing in the way of words will ever tell of the almost overpowering excitement and joy that presently leaped in his lonely little heart.